Striking Distance
by sherryatom
Summary: Scar has returned for Lex and she is ready to follow where he leads---if her past will let her. Follows Solain Rhyo's "Solitary Trial". Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: _This story will make little sense unless you __first read these three Solain Rhyo fanfics: Surviving This; Sacrifice Theory (first ending) & Solitary Trial__. Picks up 1 ½ minutes after Solitary Trial ;-)_

_My sincere thanks to __**Solain Rhyo**__ for permission to use her original characters and follow her story line; for her interest, encouragement and words of wisdom along the way, and for being my first fanfic's first reader. Basically...thank you for rocking so hard in so many ways!_

_Disclaimer_: _I don't own the original AvP characters. The Scale, Tank, Ana, Cora and Reed characters belong to Solain Rhyo._

_(Story is complete but I'm doing some editing. All chapters should be up by the end of the week). EDIT: obviously this didn't happen! They'll be up soon enough though._

**xxx**

We didn't leave right away. Whatever lay ahead, it seemed that at least for the time being there was no hurry. And I was glad. I had decided to follow where Scar led---to the hunters if need be---but I wasn't looking forward to the latter possibility. No, not one bit. I knew my body had healed as well as it probably ever would, but my mind was in many ways still raw, still bruised. Sometimes I felt as fragile as the soft puffs of snow that had fallen throughout the last winter—wisps of beauty that blew apart in the wind before they ever touched the ground. And although I had no regrets about what I had decided to do, if truth be told I was still terrified by the enormity of what I had chosen.

After Scar pulled me to my feet I stood with my back bared to him once more as he resumed his inspection of my old battle scars, albeit a more cursory one. With a curved nail he worked his way from the nape of my neck to the lower curve of my back. He snarled into my ear as he traced the waterfall of acid scars that coursed down my back, and I wondered if he was remembering that final fierce and desperate battle in which Celtic had fallen. Terrifying, derisive, indomitable Celtic who would not have minded seeing me dead, but whom I could only suppose had been Scar's friend.

When Scar eventually signaled the completion of his perusal with a low growl, I turned to face him and was promptly hauled into another rough embrace, my head resting against his chest as if it belonged there_._ When he released me, I amused him by grabbing his wrist as he had done mine ,and tugging as hard as I could on his arm to pull him down to the floor of my den. His soft chitter of laughter followed us to the floor.

To my great wonder, I realized that we had taken up our old, familiar companionship as if no time had passed at all. We fell into a comfortable silence, save for the occasional purr from him, and "oof" from me when with a rough finger he prodded the bite on my neck, which was steadily growing tender. I took up my own study of his body; with my fingers I traced the vertical slash running the length of his side that had helped to bring us together in the caves of Boutevoya. _Here_ was the scar left when he had been impaled, and right _there_ was the large scar left from the alien erupting from his body. I had previously only had brief snatches of opportunity to look at his body closely, and I was somewhat bemused to discover now that I knew it better than I had realized.

And on the wood floors of my den, away from the pyramid, caves, and above all the foul scent of alien slobber, I discovered Scar's scent for the first time: metal, musk, and inexplicably--trees.

I hadn't yet lost all traces of shyness before him however, and as soon as I could persuade him with unkind nudges of my shoulder and elbow in his side to ease the weight of the arm which lay around my shoulders, I rolled over, sliding to my hands and knees as I did so, and retrieved my tank top and sweatpants from where they lay pooled on the floor. I dressed as gracefully as I could, feeling self-conscious under his regard which I knew remained steadily on me, although I was not looking at him. Unlike me it seemed, Scar had not an ounce of shyness in him. He lay as we had fallen to the floor, the clothing he had shed still settled carefully near the wall.

I was retying the drawstrings of my pants when I felt...something...falling on me like a heavy weight. I knew that feeling too well. I had lived with it for months. Before Bouvetoya, before I knew aliens existed, before my world had turned upside down--the last feeling that had suffocated me as much had been the jet lag that overtook me after my twenty-two hour flight to Nepal. Except that I knew I couldn't banish this particular weight with sleep and that I was about to break down in front of Scar_, _I did the only thing I could think of. I stammered something quickly to him---I don't know what--- and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom.

**xxx**

Despite the flickers of anxiety that churned my stomach, I groaned when I glimpsed my neck for the first time in my softly lit bathroom mirror. For lack of anything else to do, I soaped my hands up lavishly and rinsed off the suds. I wiped my hands dry on the hand towel, shaking my head ruefully. The bruise that had formed from the impression of his teeth into my skin was a nice one all right. Dark red, with great promise of turning purple, blue and black in the days to come. The bastard.

I touched my neck gently with my fingertips, then strangely, try as hard as I might, found myself unable to tear my eyes away from my reflection. My hands gripped the edges of the bathroom vanity until my knuckles outlined harshly through my skin. I wondered if I stared hard and long enough at myself, if I could possibly find the pieces of me that seemed to have broken away one by one over the last year, but that I could sometimes feel like a phantom limb. I was still flushed from sex, but my eyes stared back at me, haunted and solemn. I had experienced life after Scar, without Scar- and it had been hollow. _I _had been hollow, only a shell of my former self. Now, Scar's return--how he had made me feel the night before—had felt like the stirrings of spring after a long, frozen winter.

But it seemed even now the nightmares and shadows that stalked me, day and night, were not ready to release me. In between sleep and waking consciousness, I had heard the aliens' shrieks, and the otherworldly screams of the alien queen as she stalked the two hunters and I across the snowy Antarctic ice. And an old dream that had resurrected itself to haunt me: Reed's face leering over mine, as he stabbed me over and over. My mind turned now, as it had so many times before, to that damned pyramid where I had watched or heard the members of the team I was supposed to lead safely instead die agonizing, unnatural deaths. The names could play in a continuous loop in my mind if I allowed it: Weyland, Sebastian, Graeme, Adele, Maxwell....the other members I had barely known and whose names I didn't even fully learn until after I had been forced to meet with Weyland Industries' lawyers. And they were all gone now.

In the last few months I had tried hard not to think of Scar, but my thoughts had inevitably turned to him and the many unanswered questions he had left me. I even sometimes tortured myself with my knowledge of his role in the death of my team. I had turned around just in time to see the gleam of Scar's blades as they pierced Weyland's body. But then I would remember Reed's death and whatever residual anger I felt towards Scar would be immediately quelled. In the face of my own barbarity, who was I to judge Scar for his judgment on an enemy, one not even of his own race?

Weyland and I had grown to understand each other a little, I thought sadly. His words to me, the insight of a dying man, had allowed me to find a small measure of peace in my father's seemingly senseless death. True, Weyland had obstinately pressed forward with the mission against my advice, with disastrous results---but he had respected and been considerate of me in his own way.

"Get her out of here!" he had ordered Sebastian, even as he knew that at that very moment death was striding up the steps to meet him.

_Sebastian...._

Intelligent, sweet, brave Sebastian. I could say without a trace of vanity that the archaeologist had begun to look on me as more than just the guide. I had certainly begun to notice him despite my own professional code. If he had lived, if I had not met Scar....But Sebastian _had_ died. By my trembling hand. Tiny pinpricks of tears began to suddenly sting the corners of my eyes, and I grew angry. What in the world was wrong with me? Why, when my future awaited me outside the door, was I continuing to dwell on what I needed to leave behind?

I fought the tears back, wiping them away furiously with the back of my hands as I gazed at myself in the mirror. I was so tired of crying, so tired of still being afraid. By all rights, I should be fearless. I had survived against all odds, and walked away from certain death in the bowels of the earth. An accomplishment of which anyone---any warrior---could be proud.

_Warrior_.....

In the sleepy, night-time quiet of my bathroom, the word hung in the air accusingly, like the echo of an unforgivable lie.

Sighing, I tore my eyes away from my reflection and washed my hands again, needlessly, shaking them dry over the sink. I left the bathroom, still lost in thought and came to a standstill. Scar was up, clothed now I noticed, standing at the den's mantelpiece as he intently examined a row of photographs there. I studied his profile-- so unmistakably fierce and strangely regal. His alert curiosity suddenly reminded me uncomfortably of the intensity which I had seen him previously display on the hunt, and I looked away, ashamed of the small frond of unease which had unfurled inside me.

Yes, the decision had been made, almost without my being able to stop it. Although I had consciously chosen to let things go this far, the truth was that I was now as irrevocably drawn to Scar as he seemed to be to me. I didn't regret the decision I had made, but I knew we didn't have an easy road ahead of us. And I still had my own monsters to hunt.

When I looked in Scar's direction again, he was looking at me quizzically.

"Lex," he said in Sebastian's voice.

Feeling suddenly and unaccountably as if I bore the burden of the sad past on my shoulders, I walked across the room to him. He pulled me closer, purring steadily, knuckles brushing the mark on my cheek and the shadows retreated.

For now.


	2. Chapter 2

**xxx**

We spent the night in the den, settled on its floors. I retrieved armfuls of pillows and blankets from my hallway closet thinking to make us a more comfortable nest, but Scar simply grabbed my hand, and pulled me down to the floor onto him. He cradled my head on his chest, and the weight of his arms resting at the curve of my waist was enough to hold me securely to him.

As I lay there, his heart hammering against my ear, I marveled again at how very improbable this moment would have once been, and at how right it felt nevertheless. So much had changed, but I was grateful that it had. Although Scar remained silent and still under me, I suspected that he was not sleeping, but was lost in his own thoughts as well---whatever they were. At our feet, the fireplace crackled and the room remained awash in light because I had forgotten to turn the lights down. I considered rising to turn them down but I floated into sleep before I could finish the thought.

What seemed like only minutes later, I was awoken by Scar's tug on my hair. I fought to open my eyes but my lids felt as heavy as millstones. For a long time I had been unable to sleep through the night---had not---until that day I had broken down and wept in the hills. Even now, I was rarely able to sleep soundly until morning, and it seemed that this night was to be no exception.

"You're as bad as a cat," I mumbled at Scar, knocking his hand away as his trilling laughter vibrated through his chest under me. Groggily I pushed myself off his torso, the upper half of my body dangling awkwardly to the floor, as I stretched my arm to grab my phone from the small desk table, knocking off smaller objects in the process. Scar helpfully grabbed my thighs to keep me from sliding off, and I sleepily grunted my thanks.

Cracking my eyes open to peer at the glowing digits on the small screen I held in my hand, I registered the time, made a quick mental calculation and snapped my head back to him in disbelief.

"It's only been three hours! Go to sleep," I groaned miserably. Scar growled his displeasure but deciding that I would ignore himfor once, I slid completely off his body and down to the floor, my back pressed into his side, facing the cold white walls that I had hated on sight when I first saw the house, but had never gotten around to repainting.I tried my best to remain awake and alert to Scar's next move, because I was sure he would not permit me to sleep without further interruption, but against my will my lids began to droop again. As if from far away I noted that his growling had stopped, and knew a moment's wariness. When his arm dropped over and around me suddenly, I started a little, but then with a small sigh of defeat, sunk completely and---happily undisturbed---back into sleep.

When I woke again, the sun was streaming in through the windows, and I was curled up alone in the pile of rejected blankets. The fire had died out at some point, but the heat was turned up high, so the room was pleasantly warm. I stood up, wincing as my muscles complained about their night on the floor, and wondered where my overnight visitor could be. As if in answer to my unspoken question, I heard a rough snarl from somewhere in the kitchen and made a beeline for it, pausing to hit the lights as I left.

I stopped in the kitchen doorway to stretch lazily, arms extended over my head, and the small of my back arched into the indescribably luxurious feeling of a new morning. I quirked an eyebrow up mid-stretch as I took in the unlikely domestic image before me. Scar was standing, legs planted solidly on the kitchen floor, with his arm draped across my open fridge door, and was staring down with undisguised disgust at its contents. Much the same as I had probably regarded the food he and Scale had offered me, I thought grinning widely.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" I said aloud, walking up to him. Scar snarled, shaking his head testily at me, and I wondered, as I had wondered often before, how much he really understood of what I said. I sidled away in case he had a reprimanding rap for me, but he only tilted his head thoughtfully. I returned, crossed my arms and waited for whatever wheels turned in his head to grind out a decision. He seemed to have finally made up his mind, because he abruptly straightened, turned swiftly on his heel, long banded locks rising and falling behind him as he did so, and strode to the kitchen's back door. He paused there as if remembering something, then walked back to where I still stood. His hand reached for my face and his thumb brushed the mark on my cheek.

"I'll see you later," Ana's voice told me. I smiled, touched that he had thought to reassure me that he would return. But I had already known he would.

"Bye," I said, uncrossing my arms to reach up and touch his forearm. I smiled again, encouragingly, to show that I had understood. He looked down at me, growling softly, then dropped his arm to his side, and turned and walked out. From the kitchen window, I watched as he started down the trail in the general direction of the forest in which we had met again. A few seconds later, the familiar shimmer enveloped him and I could see him no longer. Moving to the fridge he had left open, I grabbed some eggs and leftover pancake mix, and began to prepare my own breakfast. Forty-five minutes later I had eaten, cleared away the dishes and showered.

I was sitting at the kitchen table eating from a bowl of potato chips and flipping idly through the channels on my tiny kitchen TV, when Scar walked in as if he had never left. I glanced up in surprise; I had not even heard the door open. He had obviously satiated his appetite elsewhere, but I could see no evidence that he had been hunting, and I had no idea how he had done so without the weapons he had left behind somewhere. Then I caught myself. What was I thinking? Weapons be damned. Scar was deathon two large, muscular legs. I chuckled wryly and Scar chittered at me curiously. I looked up at him, feeling suddenly sorry for us both, and a stabbing regret for everything that apparently would forever remain unshared between us.

As this thought was going through my mind, Scar moved closer. I didn't think anything of it until he reached down, curled his fingers around a few locks of my hair, and unceremoniously yanked them. Hard. _Again. _

"God---_damnit_!" I sputtered, nearly dropping the remote in my bowl, and pushed my chair back hurriedly. He rumbled loudly in amusement and my mouth curved up into a slight smile.

Scar rumbled again, still amused, but after a brief interval, fell silent and cocked his head, seeming for all the world as if he had something heavy on his mind. When presently he looked at me, a little gravely I thought, dropped one large hand on my shoulder, and with the other pointed to my chest, then his, then to the door, I felt a shiver of commingled excitement and dread. And I knew. Whatever was going to happen--wherever he was taking me--- it was nearly time.


	3. Chapter 3

**xxx**

I was wrong. Apparently it was time _right now_. In the split second that I had nodded my understanding and begun to push myself away from the table to stand up, Scar had already seized my hand and was yanking me up and to the door. I came out of my daze in an instant, my thoughts flowing furiously. I couldn't just leave like this. I needed every advantage I could get if I was to rejoin the hunters and survive their uniquely perilouscompany. The last time Scar had whisked me away, it had been against my will, drugged to the gills, with only the lucky happenstance of being dressed in my outdoor gear. I had to prepare myself.

I also wanted to leave some kind of explanation for my friends---to explain why I had suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. I knew that there was a good chance I would not be returning soon-- if at all, and my friends were the only family I had left since my mother had passed away a few years before.

And my house, I thought swiftly. I had to make arrangements for its care or disposal-- I didn't know which yet. I couldn't say that my time there had been entirely happy, but I had developed a genuine affection for it. It had served as my hideaway and sanctuary from the world when I hadn't been ready to face anyone or anything again. I kicked myself for not having had the foresight to do all this already, but I hadn't had much warning, and certainly this hadn't been at the forefront of my mind last night. Scar might be ready to leave now, but I certainly wasn't.

"I need to pack," I said to Scar, digging my heels into the carpet to slow our progress, while trying to free my hand from his grip. As I had suspected he would, he didn't stop.

"Hold up!" I said, hissing in frustration now. When he continued to pull me behind him my frustration mounted into full-blown panic.

"Wait!" I yelled angrily, and punched his arm with my free fist. He halted abruptly and my chin connected unpleasantly with the back of his arm. He looked down at me in—was that surprise?---as I rubbed my poor chin.

I struggled to speak calmly. "I need to pack," I repeated. "Just wait a few minutes." Carefully, I tried to tug my hand from his. Scar tilted his head and after a moment, let me. I backed away, relieved.

I moved quickly to my bedroom and threw open the closet where I kept my backpack and climbing gear. My mind swirled with myriad thoughts. What to take, what to leave? Everything? Just a few things? Weapons? Okay, dumb question. If I had learned anything so far-- weapons above everything else. My gear usually stayed with my backpack, ready for my next job, but I turned it upside down now and tumbled its contents onto my bed to take a quick inventory and double check that everything was in working order.

The shotgun that had seen me through several scraps was long gone, tossed by Tank into the dark tunnels below Bouvetoya, and I had replaced it with a semi-automatic pistol after moving to my new, remote home. Adele had turned out to be so right after all---better to have a gun and not need it, then need it and not have one....

I moved in a whirlwind. My outdoor experience served me well; I knew how to pack a tight load, and to do it with little time wasted. I had no way of knowing where we were going, what we would be doing, and what distance I might have to carry my gear. My gut told me it would be a mistake to bring too much. The hunters didn't seem to travel with much beyond their weapons and medical kits. At the very least, I didn't want to attract their scorn.

My spear was stored in the bottom of a drawer in my dresser, and I retrieved it, thinking grimly that the odds were stupendously high that I would soon be using it again. I repacked, throwing in the spear, pistol, several clips for it, a hunting knife that had belonged to my father, a flare gun and my medical kit. I added some of the trail food and energy bars I usually took with me on jobs, and water purifying tablets. I grabbed my canteen, refilled it in the master bathroom, and added that too, along with a couple changes of warm clothing.

Behind me, Scar growled making me jump. I'd forgotten all about him, and hadn't noticed when he had followed me into the bedroom. I ignored him now, assuming that the growl was in complaint about the time that I was taking, but he moved past me and reaching into my backpack took out the clothes I had just put in and tossed them back onto the bed. I stared at him, uncomprehending. Slowly I picked the clothes up again, and was about to return them to my backpack when he snarled, and pulled them from my grasp. Growling, he held one of the shirts up between his fingers, and after making sure that I was looking, ripped the sleeves off, one after the other, with a deliberate manner. He looked at me meaningfully.

Annoyed, I shook my head. "I don't understand," I said. He grabbed a sweater, one of my favorites, but before he could shred it in the same way, I suddenly understood what he was trying to tell me.

Wherever we were going, I wouldn't need warm clothing.

I looked at him doubtfully. My run-ins with Scar and his companions had all been under the most wintery of circumstances. In fact they had seemed to pay so little heed to the freezing cold that I had guessed it was their preference, perhaps even their natural climate. As deeply into winter as Blue River had been for so long, warm weather was nothing but a distant memory to me. Even now, through the window behind him, I could see the upper boughs of the pine and spruce trees which dotted my back woods bending as a cold wind passed through. Admittedly, the weather had begun to warm up a bit recently, but—still....

"Are you sure?" I asked for no real reason; I wasn't expecting an answer, and I didn't get one. Sighing, I moved to my closet, standing on tiptoe to pull down the storage boxes that held my summer clothes. From one I pulled out a short-sleeved top and held it up to him, frowning. He nodded.

Still dubious, I threw in the top, some hiking pants, and a pair of lightweight hiking boots. I was already wearing jeans and a tank top because the house was warm. I slipped out of my sandals, replaced them on my feet with a pair of running shoes and zipped my backpack closed. I grabbed my compass watch from the dresser and as I did so, I remembered the length of wire from which aliens' teeth and Scar's metal band still dangled. I dug it out from the back of the drawer to which I had banished it with a grieving heart, and crammed it hastily into my pocket.

Scar had wandered into the den again, and I followed. It was time to sit down to the letters for which I knew words would be so difficult to find.

I wasn't surprised by the lump that grew in my throat as I sat at my desk and began to write, but I hadn't expected the hot tears that rose in my eyes and threatened to spill over onto the pages. With some difficulty, I finished the letters and skimmed over them, five in all.

Three were to old college friends and colleagues and were virtually identical; forced, chirpy notes telling them not to worry.

The fourth was a longer letter to my dearest friend, Renee, telling her that I had just needed to get away to somewhere warm for a while. Two of the few female guides in our circle, Renee and I had bonded quickly when we met at the beginning of my first season several years before. She called me regularly, at least every week. From past experience I knew that if I didn't pick up the phone she would simply drive up to the house to make sure I was okay, although I had dropped strong hints that I wanted to be alone. When she found my letter she would assume that I had gone off on another job and not be worried---only a little miffed that I hadn't let her in on my plans. I also enclosed a power of attorney to her, 'just in case!' I wrote cheerfully, which was actually not that out of the ordinary. In our line of work accidents sometimes happened.

The final letter was to Ana. I reread it and hated what I had written because it sounded so impersonal. Ana had been a friendly face, soothing voice and compassionate ear when I had needed it most, but I had to choose my words carefully to both avoid alarming her and alerting her that my letter had anything to do with the strange circumstances under which we had met. Of all the people I held dear Ana knew the most about what had happened on Bouvetoya Island---which was not much at all. I had simply avoided talking about what happened with anyone. Not even Renee knew the truth.

At the bottom of my letter to Ana I wrote a brief line saying hello to Cora, in large print so that she could read it herself. After a second's thought, I drew a monster next to it for her. A large, fuzzy monster with a big smile.

I had to give Scar credit, he was being remarkably patient for him. While I was writing, he hovered at the mantelpiece, again examining the photographs that lined it.

"Those are photos of my parents," I said, clearing my throat. He turned to look at me, his gaze inscrutable, then turned his attention back to them.

I sat there and continued to look at him, my heart sinking, and wondered if he could ever know how much this decision was costing me, how much I was giving up for him---for us. I wondered if it was even possible that the thought had occurred to him. Since he continued to study the photographs without comment, it seemed the answer was no. Sighing, I turned back to what I had been doing.

The letters completed, I folded them neatly and wrote the recipient's name on the front of each. Placing them on the desk, I left the den and walked into the hallway to turn the central heat off to the house. I made quick rounds of the basement and the two floors to make sure that I had not left the water or any appliances on, and that the damper on the fireplace was open. I was almost certain I would not be back to claim my house, but that didn't mean I wanted it flooded or burnt down.

As I turned to leave for the last time, my eyes fell on the framed photographs that had so captured Scar's interest. I picked up one and studied it; my parents and I on a hike in New South Wales when I was eleven. I separated the glass pane from the frame's backing, pulled the picture out and stuck it in my backpack. As an afterthought, I grabbed my cell phone from the side table as well. After all, it was what I would have done if I intended to come back....

I retrieved a coat from the hallway and slipped it on. Scar, who had seemed to realize my preparations were at an end and was already waiting by the back door, poked at my coat with a rough finger and snarled disapprovingly.

"Look, I understand I won't need it where we're going," I said peevishly. "But I need it right now."

I didn't bother to lock the door behind us. Renee would need a way to get in.


	4. Chapter 4

**xxx**

If someone had held a gun to my head and cruelly ordered me to describe the emotions that churned within me as I shut the door on my housefor possibly the last time, I wouldn't have been able to do it. I was simply feeling too much to put just one name to it all. My feelings and thoughts were legion. They jostled and blurred into each other: excitement, sadness, anticipation, anxiety, doubt, fear. Oh, I felt all those and more. I couldn't tell where one began and one ended, and if I stopped to examine the last, I would even find it hard to name all the things I feared, because they were also too many. Hurtling from emotion to emotion the way I had been doing lately had given me the unsettling sensation of being on a very long, shaky roller coaster with no way to get off, so I was relieved when, as we turned off the paved walkway onto the trail which led to the woods, a single feeling wrestled its way to the forefront of my mind. Indeed, I think I would have felt relief no matter which emotion won out, because any one of them would have given me a breather from thinking...worrying....from pondering the unknowable future. But this feeling I welcomed, because it was one of which I had felt devoid for several months, and that I was only beginning to recognize again: happiness.

I was happy. I had walked the trail below my feet many times before, but under lonelier, unhappier circumstances. The day was beautiful—the weather truly more benevolent than it had been in a long time. The shadows that had returned to haunt me the night before seemed to be keeping their distance and even the bruise on my neck was less painful to the touch. On this day, I found I was able to look on the world with newer eyes than I had in a long, long time. And it was all because of the hunter who was leading me to a new beginning, as surely as he had led me from certain death into life above ground.

When we reached the trail bordering the line of trees that delineated the the forested portion of my land, Scar picked up the pace. It was not quite the steady trot of the hunt, so I found it comfortable enough. He seemed more relaxed now that we were actually on our journey, I noticed. So relaxed in fact, that he hadn't bothered to cloak himself in the invisibility that was the sometime trademark of the hunters. He jogged slightly ahead of me, mask in place but torso still bare of armor, the ends of his hair shifting slightly with his gait. Impossibly, he seemed as in his element in peaceful Blue River as he had been in deadly combat in the Antarctic.

I wasn't particularly keen on the idea of strolling in the open air with all eight feet of Scar, but he was leading the way, and that way seemed to be along the trail. After some reflection, I supposed it would be alright. The trail ran right from my house, through my property and along the edge of the woods that sat on it, to the dirt road which led to the small town nestled at the foot of the mountains. No one would have a reason to be on the trail unless they were coming up to the house. And I had had no visitors for quite some time.

But as luck would have it, we had only been walking for ten minutes when Scar's growl in front of me warned me to look sharp. Ahead, I saw only a light swirl of powdered snow hovering over the curve in the trail before us, but after a moment, I realized that it was being kicked up a vehicle about to turn the corner heading in our direction. I stopped at once, my shoes tunneling into the snow at my abrupt halt. Of all the inconvenient times it seemed that I had a visitor that day. I watched, frowning, as a light blue truck swung around the corner. Luckily this particular bend in the trail was flanked by heavy tree cover, so I was sure the driver hadn't spotted us before we had him.

As I had known it would, the truck, an older model Chevy, slowed as it neared me then grated to a stop, kicking up more snowdrift as it did so. I disgustedly spat out the droplets of slush that had entered my mouth, and flapped my hands before my face to clear away the snow flurry that clung to the air. The driver, a large man with a round face and beetling eyebrows, leaned out of the truck's cracked window and peered at me.

"Ms. Woods," the man greeted me gruffly.

It took me a few moments to match the man's florid face with that of the farmer who raised cattle a few miles down the road. I had only met him once before, at the small-town grocery everyone in the area seemed to use, and our conversation hadn't been a long one. He seemed to be of a taciturn nature and I hadn't been in the mood to talk. But taciturn or not, he'd been curious about his new neighbor and had come up to introduce himself. Thankfully, his name came to me instantly.

"Mr. Dunner, hello," I said, wondering what on earth he was doing there. "Were you coming up to see me?"

He pushed his door open and leaned partly out, one foot braced against the ground and one arm resting on the leg that was propped up on the running board.

"Yup," he replied. "One of my steers went missing this morning. We just found the body down by the brook. Half eaten."

He paused expectantly, apparently waiting for my reaction to this strange piece of news, but I could say nothing; an immediate suspicion about what had happened to the unfortunate animal had left me momentarily unable to speak.

"It looks like maybe a beargot to it," he continued, this time looking at me strangely.

"Oh," I made myself murmur, suddenly realizing that my obvious lack of interest would look suspicious. "That's....incredible," I added weakly.

By now I was familiar enough with the hunters' habits that I hadn't bothered to turn my headas the truck approachedto make sure that Scar had cloaked himself, so I was taken aback when suddenly Mr. Dunner seemed to be looking at something behind me---through the shower of snow particles that his truck had kicked up everywhere, and that were still lazily drifting downwards.

_Uh oh, _I thought, inwardly wincing.

I plastered an inappropriately bright smile on my face, trying desperately to draw his attention back to me, but as I watched with something akin to horror his eyes commenced a slow, horizontal slide across my right shoulder.

"Why, I could swear I just saw some---" he began, his forehead furrowed in confusion.

"That's really unfortunate about your steer," I interrupted. "How is your wife taking it? She must be pretty shaken up."

"Oh yup, she is." Mr. Dunner said, his eyes unwillingly reverting to me. "Not quite convinced it was a bear, but it's bad either way. I was coming up to warn you. I would have called but we don't have your number and you don't seem to be listed."

His words sent a wave of shame washing over me. I had deliberately and willingly shut myself away from the world, but it seemed that the world hadn't shut itself away from me.

"Thanks for thinking of me," I said sincerely. "I do appreciate you driving up but I'll....."

I trailed off when Mr. Dunner's squinted eyes and still creased forehead told me that he wasn't listening anymore. When his eyes dropped to the ground as if to trace the tracks that were still visible in the snow, I realized that it would be wise for both his sake and mine to get him out of there—and fast.

"Well, so long Mr. Dunner," I said overloudly, and he reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the snowy ground to look at me once more.

"I'll be fine," I added more gently, but pointedly waved goodbye.

He looked at me uncertaintly, then his face cleared as politeness won out, and he waved in return.

"So long Ms. Woods," he said. "Be careful." He leaned back in his seat again, banged his door closed and began to put the truck into gear.

"Bye," said my voice, sounding tinnily from somewhere behind me.

Mr. Dunner poked his head back through the window. "What's that?" he asked.

"Bye," I put in quickly, raising my hand to wave once more. "Thanks again for driving up here," I added. He stuck his hand out the window in acknowledgment, made a noisy U-turn, and was gone the way he had come, kicking up more snow as he went.

As soon as I could see that he had rounded the curve again, I spun around indignantly. Before I could open my mouth to say his name, an unrepentant Scar materialized before me, trilling with laughter.

For the space of a few seconds I could only stare, simply speechless.

"You're unbelievable," I said finally, going to him and reaching up to pull a lock of his hair for good measure. But I found I was smiling too.

**xxx**

Much to my relief, we soon turned off the trail and into the woods. After I recovered from my indignation, my encounter with my confused neighbor had lightened my mood further, but as Scar and I penetrated deeper into the woods, anxiety flared up again. By the time Scar halted me by dropping a hand on my shoulder, I was almost rigid with anticipation, but looking around I saw nothing but trees as far as the eye could see. My pine and spruce woods had straggled out about half an hour ago, and we were now standing in a swatch of virgin fir trees that belonged to the town.

"Why did we stop?" I asked, frowning.

Scar raised his left arm, pressed something on the device he wore strapped there, and pointed up.

I looked up and blinked several times before I could believe what I was seeing. Among the upper boughs of the trees, a small craft of some sort was shedding its silvery invisibility about twenty feet above our heads. I backed away, and watched as it descended to hover mere inches above the ground. As if in a trance, I moved towards it, the urge to touch my fingertips to its gunmetal silver body, to feel its tangible existence against my skin, overpowering, but Scar raised his arm to bar my movement forward.

He pressed something else on his forearm, and a small, circular dome embedded discreetly in the door glowed red, then went blank again, and I realized that the ship had a security device of some sort. I was willing to bet anything that had I touched the ship while it was enabled, that this particular device would have done far more than just sound an alarm...

Strangely, the interruption had broken my trance. When Scar dropped his arm again, I didn't move but stood where I was, my feet rooted to the spot. Now that I was close enough to observe the ship's hard, angular lines, I could see that it resembled a more compact version of the giant mothership that I had seen on Bouvetoya. Standing there, looking at the inanimate shell that was to take me to a new life was one of the most surreal moments I had ever experienced. I was lost in awe and----emptiness. Now that the moment was actually here-- I simply didn't know how to feel about it anymore. Anticipation, anxiety, fear—everything I had felt moments before tumbling wildly in my brain went out the window, and was replaced with a single, numbing truth.

This was it. This was the last chance I had to change my mind. To walk away. To abandon the pretense that I could ever have anything approaching a life with this hunter that despite my best self, had won my affection.

Perhaps I was mourning the impending death of my old life, but suddenly I was seeing beyond the trees before me, and watching it replay before my eyes. Almost every moment, every _thing_ that had special meaning for me was there, so real I could have reached out and seized it, fallen into it again: the feeling of my father's beard scratching against my cheek, my mother's deep-dimpled smile..... And irrationally, randomly-- -for absolutely no good reason at all---I thought about Thursday night margaritas with girlfriends, the exulting feeling of scaling a mountain without another soul for miles, my last ex-boyfriend, taking that first perfect slice of pizza in Little Italy....

My feet must have propelled me forward without my realizing it, because when I focused outside of my thoughts again, I was standing mere steps before the ship's door. I stared at its smooth surface, so like the impassive masks the hunters favored; giving no clue as to what lay within. Knowing that I must, that I would have to eventually, I tried to draw even nearer but failed, simply unable to screw up the courage to take another step. When I turned my head to look desperately back the way we had come, I realized that Scar had come closer and was standing behind me silently. The mask gave no hint of his expression, but he seemed to be watching me carefully, his body tense, as if he was awaiting the impact of some heavy blow.

I turned around fully and faced him, stricken, understanding that without intending to I had revealed my doubts in my hesitation. With the startling perceptiveness that he sometimes displayed, he had seen and understood that I had weighed him against everything else, and wondered, even fleetingly, if perhaps it wasn't too high a price to pay after all.

I felt like the most faithless woman in the world. I was still confused, still left with too many unanswered questions and doubts for which I had no ready answer or assurance----but I couldn't bear this---this feeling of a suspension of the natural order; an intake of breath not being released. Quickly I grabbed his hand and lifted it to my cheek. I looked up at him but saw only my own distorted reflection in his mask. When he didn't move, his body still tense in that unsettling way, my chest tightened painfully and I wondered uneasily if I had inflicted a harm that could not be undone. I was relieved when gradually he relaxed by inches, and the large hand I still held against my cheek stirred and began to stroke it gently.

Letting his hand fall, I nodded to him that I was ready to go---although I knew not if it was the truth. He moved towards the ship's door, which rose noiselessly before him, not turning to see if I was following, but I was. And after all that, after all my worrying, all my agonizing....leaving turned out to be easier than I could have imagined; all I had had to do was take one step at a time.

As when we had entered the caverns to hunt the alien that erupted from his chest, I didn't look back.


	5. Chapter 5

**xxx**

But I did look around eagerly as I crossed the ship's door.

I couldn't see much at first. The ship seemed to be entirely comprised of one main room, and it was dark. The only things my eyes could pick out were some lighted panels that I immediately assumed were the ship's controls. Sunlight was filtering in, but weakly, through the ship's view window from the forest outside. Slender, cylindrical strobe lights embedded in the walls glowed, but even their artificially harsh light was not enough to pierce the near darkness of the rest of the ship.

In the poor light I could barely see Scar, but I heard the soft wheezes of air as he removed the hoses attached to his mask and removed it, setting it down somewhere with an audible thud. When my eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dim lighting I noticed something metallic gleaming dully against the wall. I shrugged my coat off, letting it drop to the floor and put my backpack down as well. After carefully feeling my way closer to the wall to peer at the mystery object, I realized that it was the chestplate of Scar's missing armor. All the pieces were there, along with the weapons that had been so conspicuously absent from his body. Streaks of light and shadow ghosted across their surfaces as I watched, and when I turned back to Scar, now standing at what I had guessed were the ship's controls, I received a jolt; the uppermost tips of the trees were trailing against the window. We were already rising although I hadn't even felt the ship begin to move.

We continued to rise higher, now above the trees, and more light poured into the view window, bathing the room in the soft, golden glow of a winter's late morning. I gazed around the room as the light swept into its corners, defining it, with a burgeoning appreciation for the sleek, almost military design that was being revealed. The room was spartan; it seemed to be bare of anything not related to the ship's essential functions. There was no question in my mind that this ship was built to perform, and I knew that its technology would be far superior to anything found on earth. A glimpse of color outside drew my attention to the window again, and I walked over to stare at the panoramic view it offered, fascinated. We were high enough that I could no longer make out details of the landscape below, and moving so swiftly that its colors, white, green, brown, grey, bled into each other abstractly. Laymen found it strange—but most of the guides I knew felt the same----that no matter how many mountains and falls scaled, how many expanses of ice traveled, a new height or view of the earth's beauty from another angle could always provide the same lift that had driven the urge to be on the ice, above it, in the first place.

And this view, from where I was standing, was like none other that I had ever had.

Familiarity had not bred contempt, only an affection that deepened with time, an entrenched hunger for freedom that led me to the ice each season. The outdoors had always been a part of my life since I was barely able to walk---my father's profession and my mother's indulgence saw to that-- but the siren call had not sounded to me until the day I watched a quiet afternoon roll by from the summit of a small mountain, partially buried under the snowfall of a mild winter, that my father had hand selected for my first climb. As many seasons as he had himself seen, he had still paused to stand silently at my side, hand on my shoulder, listening to the call as well. I was barely a teenager, I think thirteen, but I had known then. I wanted to do this forever.

Still standing at the controls, Scar began to emit a series of clicking growls, pulling me out of my reverie, and I realized that he was communicating with someone else outside the ship. My stomach flipped uncomfortably at this unwelcome reminder that I was soon to find out if there was a place for me with Scar's race. Feeling inexplicably drained, I laid my head against the slowly warming surface of the window. When I looked down at the sky that was level with my feet the surface tilted up abruptly, and I closed my eyes. I was usually an excellent flyer, but I was now fighting a slowly building nausea in the pit of my stomach that I knew was the result of nerves more than anything else. For a while, I just simply inhaled and exhaled, tracing my breath as it moved into my body and out, silently willing my stomach to unclench, and myself to find the tranquility of a few moments ago.

Silence, then a low chitter next to me, alerted me that Scar had finished his conversation and drawn near to me, and I raised my head. Without a word I went to him and laid my cheek against his broad chest, my arms pressed up into my chest and against his abdomen, suddenly craving the reassurance of his touch. His hands moved roughly over my back and shoulders, coming to rest at the nape of my neck, and pushed my head into his chest with a force that lingered on the edge between discomfort and pain. He bent his head to me and I shut my eyes, feeling his mandibles moving lightly against my hairline moments later. Although my neck was aching from his rough touch, I allowed myself to be held without protest. I even welcomed the pressure, because it was what I needed at that moment. As I stood there, listening to the steady pulsing of blood through his body---my ear didn't reach to his heartbeat---it struck me, not for the first time, that against all odds Scar and I usually seemed to find a way to understand each other well enough. We remained pressed to each other for several perfect, still moments that warmed me and quietened the distracting humming in my head. I wondered if like mine, Scar's thoughts were running to what lay ahead of us. When he eventually released me with a barking growl, I glanced outside and realized that we had risen even further. Now I could see nothing but clouds and the blue sky.

Stretching my neck from side to side to work the cramping out, I wandered around to look over the rest of the ship. There wasn't much beyond the room in which we stood. I followed a small, narrow corridor before coming up against a smooth, blank wall that I realized was the back of the ship. What appeared to be four rooms lined the corridor, small ones judging by the narrow doors, standing adjacent to each other. The doors were shut, with no handles of any kind, and I guessed that they would not open for me. I wasn't interested enough in what lay behind them to risk activating whatever security system I suspected guarded them, so I wandered back out to the main room.

Scar was standing near the wall of armor, removing his weapons and fixing them in their proper places on his body. He hadn't gone near the controls since we first entered the ship, which surprised me little; I had already seen manifestations of the predators' technology. Any ship of theirs was probably sophisticated enough to steer itself through several galaxies and back. I took up my post again at the window, and to my surprise, saw that we must have lowered our altitude, because we were no longer above the clouds, and the land below had revealed itself again, a blurred green and brown. We couldn't have possibly arrived so soon, could we? We must still be somewhere over Earth, I realized, and I looked at the blur below me for several seconds before I realized that we were flying steadily over its surface, with no apparent effort to leave it. Even as I watched, green and brown gave way to a deep aqua blue. We were moving with fantastic swiftness over a vast ocean.

I turned to stare at Scar, confused. I had assumed of course that we were going to join the rest of his race---wherever that might be. Where in the heck were we going? I knew had no choice but to wait and see.

Or maybe not.

I dug my compass watch out from my backpack and fastened it to my wrist, an idea occurring to me. I frowned as reading and comparing its changing directional coordinates, I quickly worked out that we were heading south, towards the equator. Frowning still, I turned back to the window. I gazed out the window for several moments until, unhappily, my restored calm dissipated and nervousness fluttered in my stomach again. I groaned. I was really getting tired of the tangle of emotions that came and left me at will. Behind me Scar growled to catch my attention and I turned to look at him.He had finished replacing his weapons, but not his armor I noticed. He pointed a finger down, seem to say that we were about to land.

When I turned back to the window I got yet another shock. As Scar had indicated, we were descending and our speed seemed to be dropping as well, because I could pick out details once more. We were now over a huge expanse of lush forests and rivers. Green for several miles, serrated by the murky brown of rivers and waterways. In the distance, heavy mist shrouded the ghostly grey outline of mountains which rose from the green tablet below us. I looked at my watch and saw with some surprise that we had been in flight for probably less than twenty minutes. A large, bare brown spot among the trees below told me that we were above a clearing, and as I gazed down, with a jolt, I picked out several dark figures moving around within its circle. They could only be hunters, and my anxiety rose again with the realization. To my surprise, we continued moving past, to hover over another smaller clearing some distance away. The light streaming through the window flickered and faltered, and the green walls of the trees rose around us as we descended still further. When the ship's lights dimmed and the room was plunged into darkness again, I guessed that we had landed even though I still hadn't felt a thing. I had already begun to move toward Scar's barely visible outline when a bright light penetrated the room, momentarily blinding me. I waited for a second for my vision to return, then realized that the light was pouring in from outside through the open door.

Scar who was already in the doorway, turned his head over his shoulders as if to tell me to hurry up.

"I'm coming," I said hurriedly. I picked up my backpack, but left my coat on the floor near the door where I had dropped it. If Scar was right, I wouldn't need it.

When I got closer to the open doorway I felt warm air trickling in, pleasant after the cold that I had left behind. But when I stepped through, an intense heat hit me fully in the face, the humidity so dense it was palpable. I hesitated as I stepped outside, looking around. My line of sight was brought up short by the massive trees and the tangle of thickets and brush before me. Sure enough, we had came down in the middle of a heavily wooded forest. A soft whirring behind us told me that the ship was rising back into the trees, but when I turned to look up at the leafy green canopy over our heads, I could see nothing. Had it been cloaked all this time? I supposed that also explained why we had stopped some distance from the larger clearing; there was probably a hunter ship somewhere that I couldn't see. Scar had walked ahead and paused to wait for me, but came back to me now, and dropped his hands on both my shoulders while snarling softly.

I was immediately apprehensive. He had as much as just told me, _Chin up_.

Chin up about what? I was sure I would be better off not finding out, but knowing that I would nevertheless learn soon enough, I followed close behind as we navigated the interweaving trees, assumedly headed towards the first clearing I had seen. Sooner than I had expected, we were there, judging by Scar's sudden, slowed movement forward. I looked around him and saw that our arrival seemed to have been expected, because standing in our path was an unmasked, older hunter---an elder, judging by his white hair---garbed in a heavy red cloak like the elder I had seen in Bouvetoya. Another hunter, masked, but body bare of armor, stood next to him.

My heart sank. My first introductions----and I still didn't know where I was.


	6. Chapter 6

**xxx**

My step nearly faltered but I caught myself quickly before I could trip over my own feet. I knew that every move I made was being closely observed and scrutinized, and that the gravity of this meeting was something better not taken lightly. Scar grabbed my hand and led me to within a few steps of the two hunters. By now, having a good idea of what was expected of me, I removed my hand from his and placed myself in front of the elder without waiting to be motioned to do so.

The elder looked at me silently. I met his gaze, and studied his features while trying to calm my speedily beating heart. His small, deep set eyes were a vivid mossy green, the outer lines of his face covered with pale quill-like hair which quivered slightly as he looked at me. His eyes roved over me, searching, sizing me up. Scar pointed to the mark on my cheek, then grasped my wrist and I obediently spun around, once again displaying my old scars and battle wounds. When there was nothing left to show, Scar seized my shoulders and gripped them to motion me to stay still.

For several of my sickly heartbeats, no one moved or said anything. I knew I was awaiting the elder's approval, and inside I squirmed uneasily because he continued to just look at me, not moving a muscle.

Finally he growled something quietly to Scar, who growled back. The other hunter growled something to the elder to which he didn't reply, but only continued to study me. Suddenly he took his gaze off me abruptly, and strode off in the direction we had been heading, his cloak swirling behind him. I stared after him, uncertain what pronouncement he had made about me.

Scar however seemed unconcerned, and I watched as he and the other hunter greeted each other with the usual grasping of shoulders. My nerves were strained as I looked on, because I was waiting to be introduced again, to endure another examination--- to be even confronted with the nightmare that was a hostile hunter. The new hunter turned to me, and for the first time I took a good look at him, at the familiar mask; angular with three deep vertical grooves.

To my no little surprise and delight I realized that it was Scale.

Scale lowered his head with a growl and reached out to brush my cheek, making me grin with relief, and I immediately looked around for Tank. Scale saw me looking and shook his head as if to say that Tank was not there. I felt a tiny curl of disappointment and realized that I actually missed the bloodthirsty behemoth. I sighed. I supposed that I was long past the point of denying to myself that I was capable of enjoying the hunters' company. Scar most of all.

Scale looked at me curiously and gestured to my neck with a finger. I realized that he was asking why I no longer wore my necklace, and pulled it out hastily from where it was crammed in my pocket and fastened it around my neck once more. I fingered one of the alien teeth distractedly and wondered why Scar---who usually never failed to notice such things---hadn't seemed to register its absence. A growl from Scale who had turned to follow Scar in the direction the elder had gone, prompted me from my musings. I trailed him, wishing I had even the foggiest idea what was going on.

As I had thought, we were coming to the clearing I had seen from above. It seemed to have been planned to provide privacy, because only a few felled trees gave entrance. The hunters' camp, for this was what I immediately identified it as, was a makeshift one. There were no structures of any kind. In its very center stood a deep metal bin heaped high with weapons of all types. The hunters themselves-- about two dozen I roughly estimated--stood or crouched in pairs or groups, conversing, or coming and going. Others were sharpening weapons or testing them against inanimate objects.

I had no chance to notice anything else, because in the instant that I stepped through the gap in the trees behind Scale, all motion in the clearing came to a standstill and every single head of beringed hair swung in my direction. The unsettling sensation that accompanied the knowledge that the eyes of several large, killing machines were boring into me made my breath catch jerkily in my throat. For a few moments I simply ceased to breathe. Thankfully, some turned away after a few perfunctory moments of examination, and I relaxed somewhat, though I was still ill at ease under the continued scrutiny of the others. Just when I had coaxed myself into chancing a needed breath, one hunter separated himself from a small group and headed directly towards me.

My skin crawled painfully as I watched him come.

He was huge, thickly muscled---unarmored and unmasked, and with each step he took towards me I prayed that I had misunderstood Scale after all and that it was Tank. But when he drew close enough for me to read the challenge in his body, I knew that this was a new hunter who stood before me with tilted head and hard, brown eyes locked on mine, and I tried to keep myself from shrinking closer to Scale who still stood nearby. Scar was maddeningly nowhere in sight.

The hunter looked at me expressionlessly, his eyes running over the mark on my cheek, then over the twisted scars that were visible on my arms and shoulders. His eyes lingered longest on the acid scars that began at my neck and trailed down my back, and I wondered if these were especially impressive. I had long ago grown less self-conscious about my scars, but among the hunters I was almost proud to display them, cognizant that they gave me credibility. They had certainly been painfully won.

I nearly jumped when he suddenly clenched and unclenched his fingers, his knuckles popping loudly. For one horrifying moment I stared at him, terrified, sure that he was about to attack me and remembering with sudden self-hatred that my gun was still in my backpack, and miserably out of reach.

Suddenly he leaned down and roared into my face, so close I felt the heat of his breath against my skin and heard the flaps of his cheeks vibrating from his roar. Knowing that I must, I stood still, only my eyes closing involuntarily against the air his roar forced against my face. I was thankful when it finally died away, and opened my eyes, but panic set in when I found that he hadn't moved, and had only cocked his head to the other side, apparently to study me from another angle. With his face so close to mine, I had no choice but to look into his eyes, the only thing on which I could focus. Inwardly, I rankled at the impersonal calculation I read there.

Finally he drew back and nodded slightly, reaching out to roughly pat my cheek. Although I was relieved that somehow I had passed muster, I was furious, and tightened my hands around my backpack's straps to disguise my shaking hands. When I looked around the camp, at the many eyes still watching me, I saw that this examination and its outcome hadn't gone unnoticed. Then, one by one, the hunters abandoned their close scrutiny and went back to what they had been doing. Seeing this I forced myself to calm down. Perhaps the hunter had done me a favor after all. By testing me so openly he had probably saved me many such confrontations.

As if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, the new hunter turned to greet Scale. Now that he was no longer fixated on me, I stole a few furtive looks at him. His skin was the most speckled and mottled that I had seen on any of the hunters, in one place the dark speckles formed a large patch across his unarmored chest, so "Patch" I dubbed him. It even suited him in more ways than one, I thought angrily. He had left me feeling as violated as a ship boarded by pirates. Patch seemed to have accepted me, so I relaxed enough that I paid little heed to him and the conversation that he and Scale were now having which I couldn't understand anyway_. _Since I also no longer seemed to be the exclusive focus of the camp's interest, I carefully let my gaze wander around, trying to take everything in, anxious to piece together the situation in which I seemed to have found myself.

When a hunter emerged from the forest and entered the clearing the way Scar and I had come, my eyes swung to him as he passed us---and stayed. There was something about the way he moved that immediately caught my attention without my knowing why. I must have still been rattled from the bumpy introduction I had just endured, because it took me several seconds of puzzled scrutiny to realize that the hunter was female. At once I straightened and tried to get a closer look past Scale's bulk without staring. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention back to myself after having only just shaken it off.

I studied the hunter's walk and build---the slightly indented waist bare of armor, the body, arms and legs which were thicker and more finely muscled than mine, but were a smaller girth than that of the hunters I knew. This hunter even moved with a grace easier than Scar's. I had near to zero knowledge of hunter physiology, but the longer I looked, the more certain I felt that I was right, and that I was looking at a female member of their race. I watched as she approached a group of four other hunters, no five, I corrected myself quickly. They were all female too, I noted in amazement. As the hunters were so fond of doing to me, I ran my eyes over them all, studying them.

Nearly the same height as the male hunters, only the slighter width of their bodies immediately betrayed their gender. Their hair was no longer than that of the males, but were more beringed. All bore the hunter's mark somewhere on their face. Four on the brow, one on the cheek, and one whose mark I searched for vainly until she turned her head away from me and I spotted it on her temple. None wore armor, but they were as armed to the teeth as I had come to expect from the hunters. One wielded a crossbow, another casually twirled a spiked metal club---weapons I had so far never seen used by the hunters.

My ability to look without staring had all but vanished as I eagerly noted these details. I was dying of curiosity and finding it difficult to hide it. It was only when one female--- the largest I noted shakily--- looked up and caught my eye, and separated herself from the others to walk over to me, that the consequences of my carelessness really hit home.

_Not again!_ I thought in dismay.

**Note**: So yup, I'm taking the liberty of ignoring certain "facts" about predator physiology. No one really knows for sure anyway....


	7. Chapter 7

**xxx**

As I had feared, the hunter headed directly towards us, her mask tucked into the crook of her arm. She greeted Patch and then Scale, gazing at Scale and growling softly. A strangely fond expression passed over her fierce face as he stroked her cheek, and they exchanged a few guttural words.

By this time I had a pretty good idea what to expect by way of greeting from a male hunter, but I hadn't the least clue what to expect from a female, if indeed greetings differed between the sexes. So when she turned to me, I was half-petrified, wondering what she was going to do. For an incalculable space of time the large female, _Amazon, _I named her silently as I craned my neck upwards to meet her gaze, only stood before me, her eyes studying my face and running the length of my body. When I remembered Scar's possessive mark on my neck I flushed. My hand almost shot up guiltily to cover it, but I quelled the involuntary movement, instead only turning my head slightly away from her and down to conceal it. Warily, I raised my eyes and took advantage of our forced close proximity to examine her as well. Her hair streamed loose around her face and I noted the intricate embossing on the metal rings that adorned them, before my eyes moved to the facial features that separately were not unlike those of the male hunters, but taken together managed to imbue her with a look that was somehow different in its ferocity.

When she finally nodded to me curtly, I almost shook with relief.I nodded back quickly and edged away as unhurriedly as I could manage to look. There was something about her that was rather formidable, not unlike the two elders I had already met, and I was keen to get away from that penetrating gaze.

Besides, it was time to find Scar---wherever he had wandered off to.

I began to circle the camp while at the same time trying to avoid making eye contact; my fear of drawing myself into another confrontation still deep. A hunter who knelt on the ground as he sharpened a knife looked up and growled at me as I passed. Not knowing if his intentions were friendly or not, I averted my eyes and quickened my pace. Trying to find Scar among all those predators, some masked, all unarmored, was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack---from three feet below the haystack. Although at five foot seven I was by no means petite, the only body parts on my eye level were several mottled backs, chests, and abdomens that were almost neutral in their uniformity. I had never before been in such close quarters with so many of them, and as I tried to navigate the camp without being stepped on, bumped into or knocked over, I was more conscious of my puny human-ness than I had almost never had before.

When I eventually spotted Scar, he was engrossed in growling and hand-gesturing conversation with two huge hunters.

_They're __all__ huge!_ I pointed out sarcastically to myself.

I waited from a distance, not eager to insert myself into their conversation and initiate another introduction. I fidgeted impatiently as I waited. I still hadn't decided whether I should be irritated that Scar had left me to meet his companions alone, or flattered that he apparently felt I could take care of myself. While I was waiting, I decided I might as well get my weapons out and at the ready, as I could see the other hunters around me had already started to do.

Although to a hunter, not a single one wore body armor, there wasn't a question in my mind that I had been brought on some type of hunt. It was what I had tried to prepare myself for, although it was scarcely what I wanted. I opened my backpack, took out my spear and carefully placed it on the ground at my feet. I withdrew my pistol, loaded it, flipped the safety on----and waited. Fear had been my constant companion since I stepped through the clearing, but now, even the thought of possibly hunting the black serpents again did not paralyze me. I had done it before, I reminded myself over and over now, I could do it again. And perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I still stood safely in the bright warm day, so different from the dark tunnels and caverns, that I had so recently left the normalcy of Blue River---but my courage had not entirely fled. As if I was summoning a ghost from another time, I recalled the exhilaration I had felt in the caves after I plunged my spear into the dark body of an alien as it hurtled towards me, dropping it dead at my feet. Was it even possible I would feel that way again on this hunt, after all this time?

Scar finally extricated himself from his companions and came over to me. He brushed his fingers against my cheek and purred loudly, seeming pleased to find me still in one piece. I shot him an evil look which he ignored, his attention fastened on the gun I clutched in my hand. Emitting a clicking growl, he grabbed my hand and deftly pulled the gun from my grasp. As I watched indignantly, he strode over to the metal bin I had observed earlier and tossed it among the other weapons. Returning to me, he tipped my open backpack over with his foot, and crouched before it to examine its contents. He grunted, picked up the spear and knife and handed them back to me. The extra clips he tossed into the bin with the gun.

I noticed then that Scar carried only his shuriken, spear, and gauntlet, which I knew hid a set of nasty blades. He hadn't reattached the cannon that usually rode his shoulder, but when I looked down at his calf I could see the bulge of his knife in its sheath. Looking around the camp, I saw a similar sight. Scale's spear lay against his back. His shuriken was fastened at his side, but his cannon was missing as well. Next to him Amazon still lingered, a long scimitar hanging at her waist that reached almost to the ground. Another hunter was using the trunk of a tree to test the edges of the longest pair of arm blades I had ever seen.

There wasn't an automatic or energy weapon in sight.

I accepted the loss of my gun without protest, because by now I knew Scar well enough to know he would have a reason, as greatly as it pained me to leave it behind. But my lips pursed in thought and I tossed my spear lightly from hand to hand. The hunters' missing armor was something I hadn't really stopped to think about, assuming that they had discarded it because of the hot weather, but now I realized how unlikely it was that they would hunt those aliens without armor and cannons----never mind that I had been forced to do that very same thing.......We were not hunting aliens then, but some other prey. I had not yet seen them hunt without armor, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that they sometimes did. And if they were also leaving their more sophisticated weapons behind, then it seemed that this wasn't an ordinary hunt. They seemed to be deliberately putting themselves at a disadvantage but I didn't believe that they would waste their time hunting easy prey. There was something more to this that I couldn't yet put my finger on.

I went back to observing the hunters around me. I was still curious about the females, and for the time being I had nothing else to do. I watched when they greeted each other, and idly listened to the unintelligible, growling conversation that flowed back and forth. For my own reasons which I hastily glossed over in my mind, I was particularly interested in the way that the male and females communicated with each other, and these interactions I observed more closely. The more I studied the hunters however, the more I became aware that something was clawing frantically at the corners of my mind, begging to come in and make me understand. I frowned, trying to clear my thoughts for a moment to figure this new mystery out, but couldn't think of what I was missing. When the realization belatedly came, I choked back the mumbled "oh shit" that my lips had begun to form.

_The hunters were all couples_

I was mistaken...I simply had to be. But another good look around the camp, and especially at Amazon and Scale who were still standing together, her hand now innocently resting against his, told me I was not.I stared across at Scar. His head was bent forward as he examined his gauntlet, but when with a toss of his hair he straightened, my eyes were drawn to the familiar mark on his brow. And everything seemed to fall into place.

Was it possible that this was some sort of ritual hunt? _Another_ one? For mated hunters? I caught Scar's eye and he clicked at me curiously. I smiled at him faintly, but my mouth was suddenly dry. Tiny beads of perspiration were forming on my forehead and I struggled to breathe evenly.

"Easy Lex," I murmured to myself. "Don't panic...."

I promptly began to panic.I stumbled away from Scar, blind to everything but the feeling that I needed air----that I was being suffocated.

I looked around a little wildly. Through the dense trees that surrounded the clearing, tiny bits of the safe, blue world I had left outside sparkled brightly as if to agree with me that, yes, I was screwed. I ducked my head and rubbed my temples wearily with my fingers as I stared at the forest floor. Near my feet a wavering line of ants meandered over rocks, bearing chewed off bits of foliage. I had never thought to be jealous of insects before, but I found I was now, intensely so, simply because they weren't in the predicament that I was.

Heavily armored feet came into my field of vision and stopped, alerting me that a hunter had approached. I raised my to find Scar standing in front of me. He chittered at me again, still in curiosity, and I thought that I could cry from the frustration of it all. There was no one to translate the hieroglyphs for me on this hunt, so to speak. How could I take part in a ritual I didn't understand?

I wasn't even sure yet what we were hunting! Scar's head tilted as he observed me and I wondered if he could tell that I was silently losing my mind. As I thought this, his hand shot out and seized mine. He began to rub it with his giant one, rumbling at me softly. Both the rubbing and rumbling did wonders, because I felt myself growing calm again.

And then of course it hit me that in my flurry of panicked thoughts I had overlooked the most stunning thing of all: Scar hadbroughtme here. He had_ brought _me on this hunt. He was openly presenting me as his mate---or whatever term the hunters used. I drew back as far as the hand he still clasped in his would let me, and stared at him, knowing that I was gaping, that my eyes were wide and my mouth hanging open stupidly, but unable to help myself.

Of course I knew that Scar was fond of me---that much had been undeniable once I had permitted myself to see it. His affection had never wavered, even when I had refused to acknowledge my own. He had even made it clear by his return and the possessory mark he had imprinted on my neck, that he wanted me with him. But I had never thought-----I had simply avoided trying to put a label on our relationship. How could I? I had not even been able to acknowledge my feelings for him until after I had waged a long, hard struggle with myself. I was not yet ready to delve further to find out just how deeply these feelings ran. Besides, I was sure that not since the beginning of time had there been a pair like us, meeting in the unlikely way we had. It was certainly outside my own experience.

Scar huffed, interrupting my train of thought and swinging its focus suddenly to him. My eyes narrowed as I looked at him. Not for the first time I wished I could read whatever was going through his mind. This hunt...this _ritual_ hunt---I could not forget that part---held some significance for him and I. It had to; I couldn't think of any other reason why all the hunters seemed to be mated, male to female. This all bore with it a certain finality that overwhelmed. Whatever the import of this hunt, Scar had already had time to think about it all. I had been blindsided.

My thoughts turned the long battles we had fought together and barely survived with our skins, the fearful moments in the caverns when I hadn't known if he lived and that single agonizing period in which he had truly almost been lost. I had accepted my feelings for Scar; I wanted to be at his side---but deep down I still had grave doubts that it was even possible. Thus far, I seemed to have gained the approval or at least acceptance of a few predators, but I was conscious that I was being ignored or only tolerated by most of them. For all I knew they were only refraining from attacking me. It was not the worst result that I had expected from meeting others of Scar's race---Celtic's hands closing tightly around my throat came to mind—but if this was the best that predator society had to offer me, what a lonely life I could expect to lead, I thought brokenly.

Examining the few pieces of information I had gathered, putting them together, then turning them around and putting them together again still only led me to one conclusion---I had to go through with the hunt. To do otherwise would have made my decision to follow Scar nothing but an empty husk of a promise. Besides, and I smiled grimly to myself, I had already passed the PSR. I couldn't turn back now even if I wanted to. I drew nearer to Scar again and dropped my head to rest against his forearm, trying to resign myself to it all---as I had to. I watched his large hand move roughly over my own for a few moments, then looked away restlessly and around the camp's perimeter.

Across the clearing, Scale was now standing near the line of trees, the elder by his side. They appeared to be having a tactical discussion of some sort, for they were scrutinizing a red holographic image on Scale's arm device, heads bent close together. When the image died away, the elder turned to leave, but not before dropping his hands to Scale's shoulders and gripping them. There was no mistaking their mutual high esteem of the other, and the thought crossed my mind that perhaps they were even father and son.

I studied them both. Reserved, stoic, Scale, and the silent, stately elder. It wasn't impossible. If this was true, it may have even been at least partially due to Scale's influence that I had been permitted to take part in this hunt at all.

Perhaps I had spoken more truth than I knew when, after our first awkward meeting on the _Piper Maru_, I had called Scale an ally.


	8. Chapter 8

**xxx**

The elder must have given a signal I couldn't understand because suddenly the hunters began to rouse themselves with loud growls and snarls. Masks were on or being replaced. It seemed we were about to be on the move.

A female hunter making her way to the line of trees surrounding the clearing, paused as she passed us, and stared down at me. The blank visor of her mask gave no outward clue of her expression, but every hair standing up on the back of my neck told me that it wasn't a friendly one. She grunted, then deliberately side-stepped, forcing me to take a quick step back to avoid colliding with her. Scar growled, whether to me or to her I didn't know, but made no move to interfere. Mystified by the hunter's obvious slight, I watched as she continued to walk to the trees, halting near a large unmasked, barrel-chested male that I presumed was her mate.

_Bluto_, I thought, aware that I was being a trifle bitchy.

She drew a tri-curved blade from her side and began testing it against some nearby trees, swinging at them and slicing off branches. When she tired of this she turned her attentions to the trunks of a few smaller trees which fell entirely against the blade's sharp edge.She paused before a large tree draped in huge sheets of falling vines that resembled English ivy, and I was startled when for no reason that I could see, she grabbed a large handful of it, ripping the vines out by the roots with one powerful yank, and hurled it to the ground. Growling nastily, she walked away to slash at another tree.

"What was that about?" I said aloud, strangely more disturbed by this odd outburst than her petty trick. I began to think that I should have a care around this unpredictable hunter, _Ivy_,I breathed to myself_, _who didn't approve of me at all.

Ivy had sheathed her sword, and with her mate was headed in our general direction so I averted my eyes. They approached, and to my unease Bluto stopped and stood before us cocked his head down at me as they approached and stood before us. I reluctantly raised my eyes to him, studying him in turn, determined not to show that I was afraid although I was deeply so; I surely could not expect the unfriendly female's mate to be any more congenial than she had been. I had already run my eyes once past the mark on his brow before I registered something---it wasn't the same as the ones Scar and I bore; his looked like the broken off arch of a stylized "A". Bluto growled to mark the end of his examination, and moved away abruptly. He had not touched my cheek, I noticed, but he hadn't roared in my face either and I was grateful for that small mercy. Bluto followed Ivy behind the elder and other hunters, all now beginning to disappear into the forest on the other side of the clearing. Scar turned to go as well, and grabbed my hand to pull me behind him. I followed automatically, still pondering the unfamiliar mark on the predator's face, and he dropped my hand when he saw it was not needed.

To my pleasure, the hunters set a steady jogging pace that I knew was almost a leisurely one for them. It wasn't a difficult one for me to maintain, and I cheered up at this auspicious beginning. We worked our way deeper into the forest and I saw that I would have to change my assessment of where we were. This was no mere forest, but an immense jungle, as the sporadic screeches and snarls of still unseen animals reminded me. I with irony when I realized that I was now one of the jungle's lurking predators. After a couple of hours the trees began to thin, and I heard the steady sound of flowing water. I realized a little excitedly that we were coming to a river, a large one from the sound of it, and not too soon because I had begun to perspire in the muggy heat which had been tolerable when we left the camp, but had become decidedly uncomfortable as I ran.

When we came to a stop on the river's muddy banks, I looked around. It was indeed large, not one of the largest rivers I had ever seen but still of a good size. I breathed in its damp, fresh scent, pleasure surging again. I walked to the edge of its bank hoping to splash some water on my flushed face, but a flick of motion in the water not too far from the bank—a crocodile?--stopped me short at once. Dissuaded, I walked back to Scar and contented myself with wiping my face on my top. Across the river, in the forest which stretched from the opposite bank, I glimpsed a black trail of smoke spiraling into the air. Straining my eyes through the trees, I made out the brown walls of huts. A village! The hunters had seen the smoke as well, and they looked at it intently, growling to each other and pointing at it. When I noticed their interest, which seemed to only intensify the longer they looked, I felt the blood drain from my face and a lump of cold, hard dread settled in my stomach.

Were we here to hunt... _people?_

I let out a small moan of distress; I couldn't help myself. It was the last thing I had expected. But it all seemed to make sense---this hunt without armor, and only weapons of blade and tipped metal. The predators had left their more sophisticated weapons behind because they didn't need them....Not against these ordinary people who would surely have nothing by the way of firepower that could pose any sort of threat to them. The hunters continued to point and study the village and my distress intensified. I had hunted Reed and his hired guns as my prey, but only because I knew they would stop at nothing until I was dead. It had been either them or me. This wasn't the same at all.

"I can't do this," I whispered, anguished. Scar rumbled at me inquisitively but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I didn't know what to do. Although my head was trying to convince me that they wouldn't kill humans without provocation everything else in me was screaming that they were predators, reminding me that they lived to strike down prey. While I was wallowing in my misery, a canoe came down the river and into view, floating just a few feet parallel to the bank on which we were standing. It was being steered by a single man. His dark hair fell shaggily to his neck and over his forehead as he leaned forward to study the horizon and the banks; his skin was as brown as a nut--to all appearances a member of an indigenous tribe. He must have just come from a morning of hunting because his bow and arrow still leaned casually against the game stacked up behind him. Anxiety had blurred my eyes with tears I was trying to suppress, but I wiped them away and whirled around to the hunters around me, who to my astonishment were making no effort to cloak although they had to have seen the man as well.

The canoe drew nearer and I helplessly awaited the man's inevitable approach and discovery of the danger on the bank. My discomfort about this volatile situation increased by the second. Soon he was so close I could even make out the sheen on his brow and the movement of his eyes as they scanned the water in front of him.

Then I was dumbstruck when the man turned his head in our direction---_and showed no reaction at all_.

He had seen us, I was sure of it, but he hadn't yelled or jumped to his feet as I expected him to do. He might have paused slightly in his paddling---but that was it. When his gaze fell on me however, his oar froze mid-stroke and he stared, his eyes boggling. Baffled by the man's sudden change in reaction, I took a small uncertain step forward. Immediately he reanimated and began to paddle away from us with a frenzy. I stared after him, flabbergasted. His desire to get away from me couldn't have been clearer. It was the strangest sensation.....as if the planets had realigned and I was now the menacing, alien element.

As far as I could tell, the hunters remained indifferent to the man's presence, and almost as soon as he had paddled past, the signal came to move again. After twenty minutes we arrived at a narrow, wooden bridge and one after the other, the hunters filed across as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. We were following a dirt trail that led straight towards the village I noticed, gnawing my lip with worry. I racked my brain to try to come up with a benign reason---any reason, why we were heading there but could come up with none. There was nothing in the village that could possibly interest the hunters besides people. It could only be for that reason that we were going there now.

I increased my pace to draw abreast of Scar. "What's going on?" I asked him worriedly, even as I knew there was no answer he could give-- no growl, no chitter, no reassuring rumble, that could allay the fear that was killing me inside. I fell back behind him without waiting for an answer, sure that I was about to witness a slaughter. I walked along dejectedly, barely able to force my feet to keep moving, feeling as if I was trailing death itself. I couldn't decide what to do. I had never been so torn in my life. We neared the village and a group of people standing on the path ahead came into view. We would be upon them in a few minutes, and I wondered why in the hell they were just standing there. The hunters were masked, were they simply unable to recognize the non-human threat striding towards them? Five men and women--- and three children, I noticed with dismay, who would all die on the hunters' blades with barely time to scream.....

I came to a standstill on the trail and squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to sink to my knees and weep. Was this what it had all come to? After I had come so far—in every sense of the word—after I had journeyed through nightmare to finally see the light of new hope ahead, after my hard-won decision......I now had to choose between Scar and his kind, and their prey---my own kind? What a cruel, twisted, _fucked up_ joke fate had played on me. I clapped my hand over my mouth to smother the scream I could feel about to burst from me. My mind ran wildly, but kept swerving back to a single question: What should I_ do_?

I had changed since I first ran with the hunters, I had learned what it was to feel the shuddering of a dying man beneath my spear...but not like this. If these people were the hunters' prey I couldn't just stand aside and let them be killed. But against even a single predator what mattered the defiance of one human? I would die in such an attempt---there was no way to escape that truth---without a single life any safer for my sacrifice. I had done nothing to bring this hunt about, but I couldn't fight the feelings of guilt and shame that washed over me now, irrational though they were. Guilt for being a part of the bloody death that would soon sweep over this quiet village and shame that I could do nothing to stop it. Indecision and fear paralyzed me, and when we came up to the people still watching our approach, I was just as helpless to act as I had been when this living nightmare revealed itself on the banks of the river. I wanted to shout, to warn them---but couldn't think of a single thing to say that would matter..... When one of the men stepped forward, bowing quickly, I only looked at him dully, not understanding. Everything had become so surreal in the last few minutes, I didn't know what to think anymore. The man addressed us in a language I didn't understand, then gestured to us, then to the village and ducked his head again in another bow.

Shock spread slowly over me when I realized that he was welcoming us.

And suddenly I recalled the lost civilization that had built the Bouvetoya pyramid. They had made a compact with the predators to aid their hunt---had even worshiped them if what Sebastian had translated was true. Barely daring to hope that what I feared was not to pass after all, I searched the faces that I had not wanted to look fully upon until this moment; the attentive, rather awed expressions, and the stances that were, if not relaxed, at least did not betray a mortal fear that should by all rights be there. Unlikely as it seemed then, this small village had made its own compact with the predators. It was the only logical explanation, and one that I clung to now because it was the only thing keeping my private agony at bay.

The sensation that I had been punched in my stomach unclenched and trailed away, and my feet began to move automatically to follow the line of hunters that was already entering the village behind the man---walking me right into Scar who had stopped just in front of me and was looking back, head cocked. He growled quietly to me to keep up, and turned to join the rear. I followed. With each step I took the tightness in my chest eased a little, and I tried to ignore the small seed of guilt that had also nestled there.


	9. Chapter 9

**xxx**

The small party of people who had come out to welcome us hung back, leaving the man who had voiced greeting to lead the way. They stood by silently, watching as we filed past. But when my smaller figure appeared at the rear of the line of hunters, their mouths fell open and their gasps rose in the air. A small boy broke away from them and began to march alongside us jauntily; he beamed up at me, his face all dark eyes and chubby cheeks. The predators paid him no attention, but I couldn't help but smile back, marveling at his childish daring. A woman who must have been his mother grabbed his hand and quickly yanked him away from us, and I couldn't say that I blamed her. Her shrill remonstrations and his answering wails rose behind us as we walked on.

I looked around at the village, at what looked like a mixture of modern and traditional buildings, which wasn't surprising; I knew there were few tribal cultures that remained completely untouched by the outside world. If things were as I had guessed, this one lived comfortably somewhere between two centuries, enjoying some of the conveniences of the twenty-first century while still honoring one of their ancient traditions: their compact with the hunters. I noticed that people looking on from their doorways froze in amazement when they saw me. I was now understanding the reaction of the man in the boat. The hunters were honored here it seemed, perhaps even revered. A human---particularly a woman—who appeared to be one of them would be unimaginable. I was certainly being stared at as if I had dropped from the sky. Although I understood now, I was still uncomfortable. I caught the eye of a woman who was staring with open astonishment at the mark on my cheek, and smiled at her, but she quickly dropped her eyes and backed away into her house.

They were afraid of me. Afraid of this unnatural woman who bore the hunters' mark. Perhaps they were wondering if I was human at all. Once again my mark was singling me out for unwelcome attention. Irritated, I strained to look around Scar and the other hunters in front of me to see where we were going. Where we were going turned out to be a large, circular hut near the edge of the village, whose domed roof rose high above those of the other buildings. The man who had greeted us on the trail still led the way, and I guessed that he was the village head. Two men were waiting for us before the hut's open doorway, bowing again and inviting us to enter.

I hesitated because I sensed I was about to learn some of the answers to my questions, and I found I was suddenly loath to have them. I sighed, and entered anyway. As with so many other things, I really had no choice at the moment...

Inside, the hut was even larger than I had thought. It was also very dark, as it had no windows, only the door through which we had entered. The hut seemed to be stark empty, except for an enormous metal cage that stood in the back of the hut. I couldn't see what lay inside the cage, but I immediately knew that I was about to come face to face with the hunt's prey. By looking up and squinting hard, I could make out the outline of the top of the cage which rose nearly to the thatched roof. Whatever it was, it was huge. I swallowed a couple of times to get rid of the numb feeling that was growing in my throat but it refused to go away.

The something in the cage begin to stir and shift, making the dirt floor under our feet tremble. So whatever was in there was heavy. _And strong_, I thought when I heard the cage itself shift across the floor as the thing inside moved around. I knew that the hunters already knew what it was, and were probably looking at it right now, as they seemed to be studying the cage intently, although none of them made a sound besides an occasional growl of interest. Behind us, I heard a fumbling, a match being struck, and suddenly the hut was illuminated by torches held by the two men who had motioned us inside. I was almost at the very back of the row of hunters, so I shifted to peer between the gaps made by their bodies to look ahead, into the cage. When I did I was sorry that I had.

The largest snake I had ever seen in my life lay in a massive heap. Even coiled, its head towered over mine---if I were to be stupid enough to stand near it. It had to be at least fifty feet long, I guessed wildly. Its wide triangular head framed a pointed face from which two dark eyes studied us. The spaces between the bars of the cage were wide enough to have let me pass through easily, but the snake's girth was so broad, the cage held it safely. It was a monster. As unnatural as the villagers seemed to regard me, they willingly housed an even more unnatural creature in their midst.

The light and our presence seemed to have agitated the snake, because suddenly it struck out, its fangs erupting from its mouth, only to clang emptily against the cage bars. None of the hunters moved a muscle, and neither did I, but only because I was unable to. My knees had failed me as soon as I saw what lay within the cage. I stared at the snake as it retreated into its massive coils, aghast. Was this what I would have to kill? Because not for one second did I believe that this snake was the only prey. No, there would be more, and I would be expected to slay one myself, that much I knew.

One of the hunters standing close to me, one that I had not yet given a name, cocked her head down at me as if to see my reaction. Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw that she wasn't the only one. So, I thought, I wasn't finished proving myself. As much as I longed to, I forced myself not to back away from the cage. I continued to stare ahead, my expression as indifferent as I could manage. After a moment she looked away, but not to my small pleasure, uttered a low growl which I interpreted as approval.

The snake had stopped moving, and lay in its massive coils, quite still, its tongue slowly flicking in and out. It seemed to suddenly be ignoring us, its attention focused on the still open doorway. I heard a loud bleat, and then a fourth man entered the hut, carrying a goat in his arms. I knew what I was going to see. The man used his foot to quickly shove the goat through the bars of the cage, where it stood and looked around, bewildered. It bleated again and the snake struck out at once, quickly drawing it into its coils and beginning a deadly squeeze. It was over almost instantly. I wasn't an expert on snakes by any means, but I knew immediately that I was looking at a giant anaconda. I felt a little relieved that the snake wasn't poisonous, as I had first feared when I saw it, then I realized how naïve I was for feeling anything like relief about the situation.

I wondered how the villagers had managed to subdue and capture the giant alive, but since it appeared to be accustomed to being fed, I guessed that it had been captured as a baby or quite young, and raised within the prison of cages. I must have grown jaded after all that had happened to me, because I immediately accepted this evidence of my senses even though I had never heard of anacondas this size, except in myth. But then I hadn't believed aliens existed either....

The man who had brought the goat to its gruesome death had already left the hut, but he came back in now, hurriedly, and rushed over to the village head. They were standing near me and I strained my ears to listen, although I knew I wouldn't understand a word. The language they spoke wasn't Spanish or Portuguese, of which I knew a few conversational words, but one that I had never heard before. Despite this, there was no mistaking the urgency in their voices. The man who had come back in seemed to have been given some kind of instruction, because he left as abruptly as he had come in.

My curiosity piqued, I walked over to the hut's open doorway and watched as he ran back the way we had come, to the path leading into the village. I perked up when I saw that a white Land Rover was driving up. The crowd of people outside had dispersed and the village now appeared completely empty except for a few men standing outside our hut. They were pointing the vehicle out to each other, talking rapidly and looking with concern at it, and I saw at once that whoever the driver was, his arrival was unexpected---and unwanted. The man who had left the hut stood in front of the Land Rover and flagged it down before it could reach the first row of houses. The driver, a dark-haired man in a white T-shirt and khakis hopped out, and the two appeared to talk. They both then jumped back into the vehicle and I watched as it made a tight circle in the dust and went back down the path, away from the village.

Turning away from the door, I looked back at the snake in time to see the goat's hind legs disappearing down its throat. I shuddered, then noticed that pieces of paper were going around the group of hunters, and that they were studying these very closely. Forgetting my fear, I began to work my way up to Scar who was standing near the cage. I was gratified when one by one, the hunters in front of me shifted a little to let me squeeze by. When I reached Scar, I peered over his arm as he examined the paper he was holding. A map! With several hand-drawn X's dotted over what looked like a large expanse of the jungle. So I was right--- there _were_ more anacondas like this one. It seemed as if the villagers had not only secured one for the hunters, they had also scouted out the snakes' lairs. I wondered why they went to all this trouble. Fear? Reverence? Gratitude for ridding them of the monster snakes? Who could say.

The map also gave me another clue to the puzzle. After seeing the anaconda I had as much suspected, but now I knew for sure---we were somewhere in the Amazon basin.

The elder strode up to the cage now and studied the snake. As if on cue the two men holding the torches placed them into holders mounted on the walls and exited quickly, the village head close on their heels, and shut the door firmly behind them. We were now alone in the hut with the anaconda. The elder drew a large curved blade from his side, and growled something. One of the hunters went to a rope attached to the cage on some kind of pulley system and began to crank it. I watched in disbelief as the front of the cage began to rise, and inched closer to Scar, clenching my spear in my hands.

It took a few moments for the anaconda to realize its cage had been opened, and it didn't react at once. When it did, it was with an astonishingly fast rippling of its muscles that propelled it forward. Its liberation lasted no more than a few seconds, for as its giant head protruded, the elder, still standing motionless before the cage, brought his blade down in a swift arc, and the head rolled into the dirt before us.

As one, the hunters began to roar, a deafening sound that shook the walls of the hut, and I knew that the hunt had officially begun.


	10. Chapter 10

**xxx**

Never before had I seen the business of killing gone about so matter-of-factly. After their last echoing roar had died away, every last hunter, male and female, wheeled around and strode from the hut as nonchalantly as if the hunt was already over and victory secured. But every inch of their bodies, muscular, supremely primed for combat and perfectly designed to kill, belied any possible notion that their nonchalance was assumed. After all, what need fear the most powerful predators in the jungle?

I hung back, feeling dreadfully out of place among them. My body pressed safely against the dusty surface of the hut's wooden walls, I watched them file out, my ears still ringing from their loud cries of what had sounded like exultation. Heavy, deliberate footsteps across the floor next to me reminded that the elder remained in the hut as well, and I turned to watch as he bent to the ground where the snake's head lay forgotten in the dirt. He extended his clawed fingers and pierced its flesh effortlessly, bringing the snake's head up to eye level between his fingers, and inspected it closely. As if he had sensed my eyes upon him, his head began to turn towards me and I snapped my gaze forward before his eyes could meet mine. He seemed to be tolerating my presence, but I was still uncomfortably uncertain where I stood with him. I knew little of hunter society but every bit of common sense I had told me it would be a very bad idea to tick him off.

I had been trying to avoid being swept up in the throng of the large bodies still exiting the hut, but Scar seized my hand in his and began leading me out behind him. I didn't bother to ask where we were going for I already knew the answer. We were going in pursuit of our prey.

After the even darkness of the hut, the sun's glaring light disoriented me for a few moments. The three men who had exited the hut so conveniently before the anaconda's release were still outside, hovering near the doorway as we came out. They were carefully giving the hunters a respectful distance I noted, but when I stepped through the doorway they uneasily drew back even more. Although I knew every step I took outside the hut took me closer to what I feared, I was still thankful to be outside in the air once more. Inside the hut, my perspiration had been flowing so freely from the warmth generated by the many bodies pressed closely together, that I had wondered if I was in danger of passing out.

As I walked through the doorway and out of the hut I automatically started to walk straight ahead, back the way we had come when we had entered the village, but Scar turned in the opposite direction, striding swiftly towards the far end of the village, past the anaconda's hut. I turned around at once to follow, and my shoulder brushed against one of the men who had been standing behind me--- too closely as it turned out. He drew back sharply at once, and dropped his eyes to the ground. I stopped, my simmering irritation at being treated like a freak of nature finally bubbling up, and glared at him.

"I don't bite!" I spat, even though I knew he wouldn't understand my words.

To my surprise the man flinched, and slowly lifted his downcast eyes to meet mine as if my clipped words had borne a command. He was half-trembling with fear, but seemed unable to tear his eyes away from mine. When I stared at him amazed, he shrank from me even more, positively wilting under my gaze. We were so close, I could clearly see the burnt brown of his face and sun-worn lines around his mouth that told of a great deal of time spent outdoors, but the clear white of the fearful eyes that stared into mine told me that he was young, barely more than a teenager.

As the boy stood before me, petrified with fear and struggling unsuccessfully to hide it, an unfamiliar warmth seeped up from a place unknown and suffused my body, indescribably heady and sweetly intoxicating. I savored it for a few moments before stiffening in repugnance when I recognized what I was doing.

_I was gloating_.....

Over the absolute knowledge that I stood in power over another being and was feared for it. A memory flitted before me then; Celtic, lifting me up by the neck and bringing me, gasping for air, to his eye level, his contemptuous gaze burning into me, reveling in his superior strength and the certainty that he held my life in his hands. I had changed so much, done so much, since I had first learned of such beings as hunters and aliens, but this...this wasn't me. I dragged my gaze from the man, feeling sickened and contaminated. _Never, _I swore. I would never let myself become that which I had once feared.

Backing away from the boy, whose eyes dropped down once more to the ground as soon as my gaze released him, I moved hastily to follow Scar who was by now several feet away, behind the hut, at the edge of the trees which seemed to give way to another jungle beyond. He spurred me forward with a low impatient growl which I didn't mind, thankful only that he seemed to be evincing no intention of leaving without me, so it seemed that we would indeed be hunting side by side once more. One of the most troubling possibilities that had occurred to me as we stood before the anaconda had been that I would be separated from him and made to hunt alone. My worries weren't entirely soothed over, but the assurance of Scar's companionship and protective presence eased one of the most important of them, and lifted my spirits immeasurably.

Scar walked past the first line of trees and plunged into the woods. I followed, turning to look back hesitantly after a few steps. Already the walls of the anaconda's hut were barely visible through the trees around us. It was as if the jungle had simply swallowed us up.

We walked on. The trees grew randomly, in no particular scheme; close together, far apart, clumped together, singly—it was impossible to walk in a straight line. The rough and uneven surface of the ground was a trial in itself, and the thick leaf litter which covered the ground hid numerous dangers, as I soon discovered when I stubbed my shoe on a rock that was almost completely concealed beneath the brush. Slender whip-like branches jutted out at my eye level and left abrasions on my skin if I brushed against them too roughly. If the branches were thorny, they pierced my skin with the slightest touch, and tiny droplets of blood rose to the surface. I found that if I kept my eyes continually sweeping around me, moving from the ground to the trees and branches and back, I could manage to avoid most of the hazards pretty well. And there was one good thing about moving through the jungle, I thought, it was impossible to run without bringing yourself up right into some immoveable object. We were moving at a steady pace, but one that I could keep up quite well. Nevertheless Scar was maneuvering his large frame around the trees with an assured ease that I envied.

After some time, I noticed that the ground we were traversing, while it could have scarcely be called level, nevertheless seemed to gradually be inclining upwards. Eventually it angled so steeply that my calves flexed responsively with every step, and with each passing minute I expected that we would reach a peak of some sort. When we came to a steep cliff about an hour later instead, I was only mildly surprised. I looked around, taking everything in, entranced by the view of the forested mountains which seemed to completely surround us. We were dab smack in the middle of nowhere.

Scar walked up to the cliff's edge and looked down, peering at whatever was below. I went to him and looked down as he was doing. We were very high above the ground. The forest stretched below, a lush carpet of green with no end in sight. Straightening from his precarious position, Scar growled to catch my attention then dropped to one knee in front of me, his back towards me and arms stretched out with his palms facing upwards.

"What are you doing?" I asked cautiously, looking down at the top of his head, an even rarer sight from my usual viewpoint than the one around us.

Scar rumbled, then curled and uncurled his fingers, motioning me to place my hands in his. I looked at those large hands and couldn't help but remember what had happened once before when I had trusted him enough to place my hands into his. But also remembering what had happened since, and knowing only that I trusted him now, I edged closer until the front of my legs bumped into his back, and placed my hands into his as he wanted. He ran his thumbs over the backs of my hands once, then still rumbling, intertwined his fingers with mine and tugged my arms forward to drape at his neck. He rose swiftly and I gasped as my feet left the ground and I was dragged up with him. Instinctively, my arms encircled his neck to prevent me from falling, although my legs dangled helplessly below me.

"What are you doing?" I cried, my voice rising in apprehension. Scar purred, grabbed my legs and hoisted me even further up his back. I tried to shimmy off at once, but couldn't budge an inch from the iron fingers which gripped me at my knees.

While I was still trying to figure out what Scar was doing, he moved to the very edge of the cliff again and my heart knocked against my chest painfully. When he craned his head down to examine the ground below once more, my head lying behind his unwillingly fell forward as well, and the sight of the ground rushing up to me was enough to make me sick. I was used to heights.......it was not the sheer drop that was making me suddenly nauseated, only the method of descending it that Scar seemed for some reason to be contemplating. My already racing heart revved up to full speed.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I shrieked. Scar grunted, and pulled my legs forward to wrap around his waist. Pressed as closely as I was to his body, I could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders gathering as he prepared to leap. This time I needed no urging to hold on, and I clenched my legs into his torso with all the strength I had. When his body launched off the cliff a few moments later, I was clinging to him with little attempt to hide my fear, thinking only of not being dashed to pieces on the ground below us.

**xxx**

I'd long had it on good word from older, more seasoned climbers, that time loses all meaning when one is staring in the face of death. I had good reason to believe it too, having found that old maxim to be true after a bad scare three years before, as I was working my way up the Bokong Icefall in Lesotho. I had just sunk my axe into the ice and started to pull myself up by its hold, when the ice suddenly cracked and broke away, sending the axe careening to the ground far below me. With nothing else to grab on to, I lost my grip on the ice completely and slipped, my feet and hands scrambling uselessly to make purchase on the ice. I was saved when my climbing harness arrested my free fall. I didn't fall far--only a few feet-- but I was keenly aware of every agonizing second that ticked by before the harness kicked in.

Each fall must be unique, because this time as I plummeted from the cliff, tightly clinging to Scar, I was only vaguely aware of separate, distinct facts. I was aware that all the organs in my body seemed to be floating inside me without restraint, the unavoidable effects of gravity. As if it had nothing at all to do with me, I also noted how Scar was holding his arms away from his body as we plummeted, and I even mused dispassionately that it must be to stabilize our fall. Then a strong wind tore up into us from below, burning my eyes and forcing them shut, and Scar's long hair streamed into me...around me....blocking out all sight and light. I wasn't even tempted to scream; I was sure that the wind would rip every breath of air from my body if I dared to open my mouth to do so.

When we hit the ground what seemed like several minutes later, but could have only been seconds, we hit it hard. Scar landed almost squarely on his feet, only dropping one hand to the ground and side-stepping to maintain his balance, but the force of our impact was jarring enough to make my head snap forward and back painfully. Scar stood up at once, and I clung to him still---terrified out of my wits. It took me a few moments to realize that we were on the ground, and even then I couldn't persuade my arms that it was safe to release their grip around Scar's solid neck. Scar stood there, not moving, then began to purr at me. He lifted his hand and patted my right knee reassuringly and this affectionate gesture was what finally prodded me to release my death hold on him. My blood boiling, I slid down his body, landing awkwardly, and glared at the broad back which faced me, forgetting even the pain of whiplash in my anger.

"You....you jumped! You _jumped_!" I yelled, as incredulously I had not been taken along for the ride as well. Scar paid me no attention, and turned his head from side to side, seeming to scan the area around us. His long hair swept back and forth across his shoulders as his head moved, and even that goaded my anger on.

"I can't believe you actually jumped!" I yelled, shock inducing my voice to rise almost into hysteria. Scar grunted now, but continued to ignore me. I glared at his back again, willing it to turn and face me in all my impotent fury. When he made no move to turn around, I gritted my teeth. Short of physically taking him on—an abysmally losing proposition--- I had little way of venting my frustration. And I well remembered the last time I had yelled at him enough to make him lose his own temper. Having no other alternative, I let my voice trail away into a silence that simmered with my undefused anger.

Seeming satisfied with what he saw, Scar turned and motioned me to come to him with a crooked finger. I considered my lack of options then went reluctantly, still fuming inside. When I was about a foot away from of him, I stopped stubbornly and gifted him with one of the glares I had previously visited on his back. He cocked his head down at me, then placed fingers under my chin and tilted my head up. He brushed a thumb over my cheek and began to purr again. This time I listened, and despite myself felt my anger beginning to slowly subside.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," I told him, but with little conviction in my voice, even to my own ears. I allowed him to purr at me for a few moments more, then deciding that I really needed to stand my ground, I tried to edge away. He immediately caught me by the shoulder and hauled me back to him. I struggled half-heartedly then gave up.

"Okay, fine! I'm _not_ mad at you," I grumbled. He tilted his head down at me again, then dropped his hand from my shoulder with a low trill of amusement.

Suppressing an unwilling smile, I walked back to the base of the cliff from which we had so astonishingly vaulted and gazed upwards, craning my neck back to bring it into view. Scar had easily cleared more than a couple hundred feet without apparently suffering any ill consequences. That fact took my breath away, and my appreciation of the hunters' almost superhuman physical agility increased even more. The base of the cliff was ringed by immense boulders and short scrub, and the actual line of trees began a few feet from where we had landed in a patch of low-lying grass. When I looked back up again to the distant top of the cliff, at the sheer fall we had taken, I realized that say what I might, Scar had probably saved us hours on foot by taking a more direct path to wherever we were going. When I had finished gawking, I wandered back to Scar and we plunged into this new stretch of jungle.

The light dipped down as soon as we entered the trees, as if someone had flipped a switch somewhere. The further we walked, the darker and desolate the jungle grew, and as we walked, I assessed my current situation. It was cooler among the tall trees which I welcomed; I was still sweating steadily and felt uncomfortably warm in the oppressive heat which hadn't faltered since we had arrived. As a matter of preference anyway, I liked cooler weather. Scar didn't seem to be bothered by the heat at all, and when he glanced down at me curiously as I wiped my face yet again on my top, I wondered if the hunters even perspired.

But I had other worries aside from the heat that enveloped me--the damned bugs were eating me alive. Swearing, I slapped at yet another mosquito that had fastened on my arm. My long sleeved shirts would have been a better choice, I thought grumbling to myself. How ironic if I were to die of malaria after all I'd been through. Recalling the reason why I was trudging through the Amazonian basin in the first place, I smiled grimly. Malaria was truly the least of my problems. My rumbling stomach interrupted my musings, reminding me of the necessity of eating, and without breaking my stride I slid my hand around and behind me to fumble in my backpack and pull out an energy bar. It wasn't much, but I needed to keep something in my stomach.

After three hours of walking, we came to a small, sluggishly moving river. Scar looked around examining the ground and banks carefully, then grunted to keep moving. Two hours later, we were still walking, and had not spotted a single anaconda. I didn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment. Relief that I didn't have to face the object of my fears just yet, and disappointment because I knew the sooner we had made our kills, the sooner the hunt would be over. We were having such little luck in fact, that I began to wonder if Scar even knew where we were going. His device was strapped to his arm as it always was, but he was making no effort to use it.

Which made me wonder yet again what the point of this strange hunt was. The ritual hunt that I had accidentally stumbled upon, and that Scar and I had survived together, had tested strength and skill. The hunters had sent their young warriors up against creatures that I could only assume was one of, if not their most, formidable prey. They had been outfitted with an arsenal of weapons, and brought directly to the prey. The goal had simply been to slay and survive.

Thinking of the anaconda lairs again, I realized with a start that we had not even brought the map I had seen, so it seemed we were looking for the right locations from memory. I swore under my breath. Had I known that we had to leave the map behind, I would have studied it closer. It was my own fault, I thought. I had allowed myself to become reliant on Scar in ways I really couldn't afford to. If we ever became separated again I would have to depend on my own wiles to survive.

Several paces ahead of me, Scar stopped and snarled, sounding frustrated. I stopped as well, and slung my backpack off, grateful for the chance to take advantage of the chance to rest, even for a moment. Positioning my pack to rest on the tops of my feet, I slid down into a crouch against the trunk of a tree, and watched Scar pace back and forth. Although his mask shielded his expression, there was only one word to describe the way he looked now—pissed. And thoroughly so. I reflected that because of his imposing physical presence and fierce nature I sometimes forgot that he was still young. Since we had started our trek from the cliff several hours ago, he had lapsed into an almost complete silence, almost brooding I thought. I wondered if it was simply a trait of the hunters to lose whatever playful nature they had as they grew older, but I thought of Celtic again and snorted aloud. The young hunter hadn't had a playful bone in his body.

Scar growled again, this time to me, and pointed to himself and then to the almost impenetrable barricade of trees ahead of us. I nodded my understanding and watched as he disappeared through the trees. Reaching down to the backpack atop my feet, I pulled out my canteen and took several swigs of its lukewarm water, willing my body to accept and make this meager sustenance and rest, but my senses remained alert for any danger. I was only too aware of where I was.

The slight cracking of twigs as they gave way underneath a weight moving over them somewhere in my vicinity, put me on notice that I wasn't alone any more. I sprang to my feet at once, my memories of being another creature's prey still fresh. I knew without a doubt that it was not Scar returning. The noise hadn't come from the direction that I had watched him leave, and in any case, I wouldn't have heard him anyway. He, like the other predators moved stealthier than any human or animal I had ever heard. The sound seemed to have stopped as soon as I rose, and I stood stock-still, straining to pick them out from the noises that belonged to the jungle. A few tense moments ticked by, then my ears caught it again. My fingers curled tightly around the shaft of my spear.

The cracking came again, suddenly closer than I had expected, mere feet away from me. I caught the upright movement of white through the trees, and I frowned, confused. That was certainly no animal. If I didn't know any better, I could have sworn that it was a person. When a clump of saplings in front of me began to shake, and then parted seconds later, I found that I was right.

A man emerged from among the trees. He halted, and a startled look crossed his face, as if he hadn't expected to see me, although I was almost sure that he had been deliberately making his way to me.

He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, and with his dark hair and coffee-colored skin, he bore more than a passing resemblance to the villagers I had met, but contrary to the guarded, fearful looks I had received so far, he was looking at me openly with not unfriendly interest. His gaze swept over me, barely pausing at the mark on my cheek. When I took another look at his attire, white shirt and khakis, I realized that standing before me was the very man I had seen from the anaconda's hut, the one whom the villagers had led away.

Our mutual examination took place silently in the space of just a few seconds. He tilted his head to the side, much like Scar was wont to do and I realized that I was right. This man was only curious about me. Then I jumped when he spoke, because it was in perfect English, with the merest hint of a clipped accent.

"A beautiful woman alone in my forest. This I didn't expect," the man said, and a crooked smile spread across his face. "I'm Torry Brennan. I don't believe we've met."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: **_To those who've taken the time to review (and so thoughtfully I might add ) thank ya----I appreciate it! I'm a diehard fan of this pairing (saw AvP for the first time not too long ago) and their storyline in __**Solain Rhyo**__'s __awesome__ fanfics which I first read a couple of months ago. I tried to maintain their original characterisations and I'm happy to hear that the continuity doesn't seem off._

_Having said all that---to everyone just reading and favoriting---guess what? I appreciate you guys too.... Hope you're enjoying!_

_I'm new to fanfics so I decided to first write out this story in its entirety as I wasn't sure I knew what I was doing. Maybe next time I'll try that whole chapter by chapter thing. __Initially planned to have everything up by now but time's just not cooperating. I'll post new chapters as I polish them up, but it won't be at the same rate as the first ones, sadly. What, ten chapters in two days? Yikes! Good start though I think._

_Next chapters in 3, 2, 1...._

**xxx**

I regarded the stranger with surprise and suspicion, but little fear. He wasn't carrying any weapon that I could see, and I still gripped my spear at which he was now looking with curiosity. I wondered who he was. He had told me his name but that wasn't enough to answer the questions that had immediately risen in my mind as I looked at him. For one thing, he wasn't dressed like any of the people I had met so far. They were dressed casually for the life they led---hunting, fishing and farming. This man's clothes and boots were ordinary and sturdy enough, but they were well made, almost spotlessly clean, and from where I was standing, the watch dangling unobtrusively from his right wrist looked like a genuine Rolex. His left hand gripped a clipboard to which a sheaf of papers were attached.

The man, Torry, was looking at me a little bemusedly. "I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, raising the clipboard and shuffling the papers aside to show me a metal badge that was affixed to it.

_Game Warden_, I read silently and swore to myself. If I hadn't had reason to be wary of him before, I most certainly did now.

"I was out making my rounds when I spotted something through the trees just now and came to check it out," the warden said. "Much to my surprise, it turned out to be you. Now, are you going to tell me your name or is it me who should be frightened?" he asked, glancing again at my spear.

Despite myself the corners of my mouth tugged up into a smile, but by no means was I entirely at ease. "Lex," I said. I couldn't immediately think of any harm that could come of giving the warden my real name, but I gave only my first and hoped that he didn't press for my last. A little to my surprise, he didn't.

"Lex...." he only said, repeating my name slowly and seeming to weigh the feel of it in his mouth. "That's rather different....Is it short for anything?"

"Alexa," I said shortly; I had long grown tired of having my unusual name pointed out.

The warden's deep brown eyes studied me. "People ask about my name all the time as well. I didn't mean to offend you," he said, and I squirmed inwardly at his perceptiveness. "Torry's my father's name. But to tell the truth there's been at least one Torry in my family for several generations. Too good a name to pass up apparently," he continued, a note of humor lilting in his voice.

"I'm named after my dad as well," I conceded, feeling that my reaction had been petty and churlish.

"Well Lex, that's one thing we have in common—we're both standing in the jungle in the middle of God-knows-where," he said, raising his eyebrows and looking around us with an expression of mock-dismay.

I burst out laughing, and finally began to relax a little in the face of this ordinary, friendly banter. His greeting to me had rubbed me the wrong way, reminding me unpleasantly of the late Reed, but I saw now that it had only been harmless flirtation. It was also a relief to me now to know that there was at least one person within a hundred miles that I could actually have a conversation with.

"Well....I wouldn't _quite_ say that. I don't know about you, warden, but I'm pretty sure I have a good idea where I am," I said lightly.

"Call me Torry," he said, looking intently at me.

"Sure....Torry," I said.

A brief silence fell between us then, and I knew the warden was about to ask the inevitable question----why I appeared to be standing by myself in the jungle in the first place. Relief coursed through me when something on the ground caught his eye and he dropped to one knee to examine it. With his fingers he traced an almost figure eight outline in the dirt near where I was standing. "Hello, what's this," he said distractedly.

With something like horror I realized that he was looking at a large bootprint. Scar's. Of all the rotten luck, the warden's sharp eyes had picked out the impressions of Scar's heavily armored feet in one of the few bare patches on the forest floor surrounding us. Although I was discomforted by his find, I was also reluctantly impressed.

"It looks like a shoeprint," he said almost to himself. "No...a bootprint. A really large one, and heavy too from the look of it. Must be a hunter, although God knows what he's doing here. The game's better over on the other side of the mountain. Not as many predators too. It's a natural development because of the way the land---Oh I'm sorry," he said, abruptly stopping his musings and glancing up at me. He laughed a little self-consciously. "I sometimes forget not everyone's interested in my shop talk."

"I don't mind, I find it rather interesting. I work with an environmental organization, and guide expeditions on the ice in my down-time. Or it might be the other way around," I blathered, glad to change the topic.

A look of genuine pleasure lit up his face now, and I found myself awkwardly observing the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

"Are you now? That's spectacular. So you're here with a group of some sort?" he asked.

"Yes," I said quickly. It wasn't entirely a lie. "I'm with a hunting party some distance from here," I added, trying to be vague.

Torry's smile faded, and I could have bitten my tongue out. I knew I had said something wrong.

"You know this area pretty well then?" he asked.

"No......not this particular area but we're very well-equipped. I've led groups in the Amazon before," I said uncomfortably, trying not to squirm; I was lying outright by now.

Torry got to his feet slowly, dusting off the knees of his pants and looking lost in thought. He didn't say anything right away and I held my breath, helplessly trying to think of all the possible questions he might ask next---and come up with an answer to them.

"I go up to the main town every other week to listen to the radio bulletins and I didn't hear anything about a new group coming anywhere close to this area. And this is a pretty poor spot to hunt as I said. Isolated too," he said presently. He had been looking off into the distance as he spoke, but his eyes swung back to me now. "When did your group get here?"

"Just over a week ago," I said quickly, wincing inside at this new lie.

"Hmmm......." he mused. "Then I guess I'll be hearing something about you guys soon."

The warden had picked up a stick from the ground as he stood, and he ducked his head down and began to play with it idly; etching small circular grooves in the dirt with it, and swinging it lightly against his legs. I watched him uneasily. His body language seemed more relaxed now as if my answers had entirely settled whatever doubts he had in his mind, but I had a sinking feeling his interrogation wasn't over, and I was right.

"A hunting party you said?" he mused. It wasn't really a question so I didn't respond.

"Well Lex, if your group's here to hunt, I can only presume that for some reason one of the higher-ups saw fit to grant you permission to do so," Torry finally said. "I really don't mean to be rude.....but I'll be upfront in saying I don't like it. It's a bad idea, plain and simple and I wish to God they would listen to me and stop licensing more hunts. Game around here's been in decline for a long time; it's recovering right now, but frankly one thing the jungle doesn't need is more hunters---licensed or not---running around trying to shoot and trap every thing that moves," he added angrily. He paused.

I was stung by his blunt, incendiary words, but I couldn't fault the passion that rang as true in his voice as did his anger. Moreover, I even agreed with him. I wasn't crazy about hunting in a sensitive ecosystem either---legal or not---but there was my usual problem to be taken into account; I really couldn't do a damned thing about it.

"My group won't be here long_,_" I said curtly, this time not caring if I was lying. The entire conversation was giving me a sinking feeling, and I wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

And bad, rotten, cursed luck dogged me still, because at that very moment the unmistakably triumphant roar of a hunter split the air, the sound carrying clear on the air even though it seemed to come from some great distance away. I closed my eyes briefly and stifled a groan. There was absolutely no way I would be lucky enough that he would mistake it for the cry of some other animal.

"What the _heck_ was that?" Torry said, whipping his head around and blinking quickly in surprise.

I began to silently curse up a storm, but the warden seemed to have forgotten the roar as quickly as it had died away, for he suddenly came closer to me now. I forced myself not to step back in response. He was nowhere close to being as tall as one of the hunters, but at a few inches over six feet, his height was enough that I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. His eyes regarded me, his expression soft and not without sympathy, but his next words were as blunt as his others had been.

"Since you're already here, I just ask that you make sure your group follows the rules. I'll even give you a piece of advice, and honestly I'm surprised as a guide you don't know it already. _Never_ go anywhere alone. I do because I know these jungles like the back of my hand, and I'm armed," he said, pulling up his shirt and showing me a gun tucked in at his waistband. "The jungle's dangerous for even experienced hunters who know what they're doing. If you get lost in here, I guarantee you won't have an easy time finding your way out, and there's always a chance some predator will get you before you do. As you might have just heard, they're out there.......and they're not very friendly."

This was too much. Irritated all over again at being lectured with the advice I usually gave to my own teams, I pushed my shoulders back defiantly and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I'm not alone," I said with an edge to my voice. "My partner's just ahead. He'll be back any moment now."

Torry narrowed his eyes at me, thinking I supposed, that I was lying.

"Besides," I continued. "I can take care of myself." I deliberately let my gaze fall to my spear, and his eyes followed. He looked up at me then, and to my surprise a faint look of admiration crossed his face, so fleeting I wondered in the next instant if I had imagined it.

He stepped back, nodding. "I see. Well, I'll say farewell then. If you do run into any trouble, there's a village that way......eight hours by foot unfortunately," he said, indicating a general direction with a wave of his clipboard. "I've got a four-mile trek to my jeep myself, and my base is a few days from here. I'm only in this area for a couple more days and then I'll be heading back, so I don't suppose we'll meet again," he said.

A heartbeat later he added almost bitterly, "Happy hunting."

I watched as he turned to go the way he had come, casting another look at the bootprint he had found, I noticed uncomfortably. Before he moved past the trees that would take him from my view, he turned around. I didn't bother to hide the fact that I was watching him. He looked at me silently, then lifted two fingers to his temple and brought them off a second later in a brief salute. He continued to watch me for a few moments, the same curious look he had had flitting across his face once more, then he turned around again and completely vanished among the trees. I listened to the sounds of his scuffling footsteps as they died away in the distance, uncomfortably certain that despite his prediction to the contrary I would meet this intense man again.

Fifteen minutes after the warden had left, Scar returned from whatever scouting he had deserted me for, materializing so abruptly from the backdrop of the jungle I wondered if, finally, he had deigned to cloak himself. He walked towards me, a purr already rising from his throat, but interrupted it suddenly with a harsh growl. His wrist blades sprang out and his head moved back and forth as he examined the ground near which I stood. All I could do was watch. I had no way of relating my encounter with the warden, nor that I had been so unnerved by it. After one last look around, Scar growled and re-sheathed his blades, satisfied that we were alone.

When we took up the march again, it was in a different direction.


	12. Chapter 12

**xxx**

The first accident was my fault. I had grown tired of constantly roving the ground with my eyes and had ceased to pay as much attention as I should have to what lay below my feet---with unhappy consequences. When the tip of my right shoe caught in the gap of one of the innumerable tree roots that jutted the forest floor, I could only flap my arms wildly and ungainly before losing my balance anyway. I made my mistake worse by throwing my arm out to break my fall, landing on it awkwardly and feeling a twinge of sharp pain shoot from my wrist up to my arm before centering itself in my shoulder. Scar looked back and down at me as I lay splayed on the ground, and growled. It wasn't an unpleasant growl, but I could fairly feel the disapproval that radiated from him, which only made me annoyed.

"Yeah, well you're not perfect either," I muttered from my position flat on my face. Scar walked back to me, and put out his arm to me to pull me up, but I ignored it and struggled to my feet on my own, wincing as my arm swung with the movement. Taking a deep breath, I squeezed my shoulder to see how much it hurt, and winced and let the breath out in a hurry when I found out that it was more than a little. Scar cocked his head at me as he watched me and I dropped my hand from my shoulder at once.

"I'm fine!" I told him irritably. He emitted a clicking growl and turned to continue whatever path we were following. Pain still throbbed in my shoulder but if I didn't touch it and limited the movement of my arm I found that it was bearable so I walked on, allowing myself to sink into a dark mood.

The second accident was just bad luck.

It happened an hour or so after I had fallen. For once, I was able to draw up alongside Scar, since he had cut his pace back in order to examine the trees that we were passing. We had just passed a particularly thick clump of young trees, when without warning something stirred in the nearby foliage---

---- and in the next second an arrow buried itself in my side.

I didn't feel the pain right away, only bewildered shock as my hand, feeling for what I sensed was wrong, closed around a foreign object protruding from my left side. Scar was livid. He let out a roar that shook the air, and sprang towards the spot from which the arrow had flown, his blades extended. There was no one there, and it became clear that I had somehow simply triggered some kind of trap. As my fingers curled around the arrow and the first waves of pain washed over me, I remembered what Torry had said about hunters.....

Scar slashed angrily at the trees nearby with a downward motion of his blades, and they came down in an enormous crash that thundered through the jungle. He then whirled on me growling loudly. He had already began to reach towards me when I realized what he was about to do.

"Don't touch it!" I yelled, scuttling away, my hands shaking as they clutched the arrow's shaft. Scar growled harshly and kept eyes widened in fear as I looked at him; he was determined to pull it out and I knew I couldn't stop him. I swallowed, and this time stood still and let him come near me without further protest. Despite my fear, I knew he was right----the arrow had to come out.

I squeezed my eyes tightly as he gripped the arrow in one hand, and almost bit through my lip to try to hold back my screams, but without success; the pain was simply too much and I screamed, heedless of the pride that I had tried to preserve earlier, as he effortlessly pulled it out in one swift motion. My agony intensified with the arrow's removal and tears rolled down my cheeks as I continued to clutch my side as if I could stem the blood that had started to trickle out. After a few minutes I was able to bring myself to gingerly prod the wound with the tips of my fingers and I was relieved to find that although the wound was deeper than I would have liked, the entry point had proven to be small--not that much widened by the arrow's exit---and the skin around it looked healthy; I had been afraid that the arrow was poisoned.

But then I began to bleed as I had never bled before.

Worried, I knelt on the ground and using the arm on my already injured right side, dug my canteen and medical kit out from my pack. With some difficulty I screwed the top off the canteen and trying to use as little of its precious contents as possible, washed some of the blood away and tried to wrap my side, but had to stop when the bandage quickly became soaked in blood. I was losing so much blood that I began to suspect that the arrow was coated in some kind of anticoagulant designed to cause the hapless victim to bleed to death. Scar stooped down in front of me and pulled out his own medical kit with that accursed blue gel but without hesitation I shook my head adamantly.

"Not on your life," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him.

He snarled and tossed his head in displeasure, but surprisingly, let it go. Perhaps he was beginning to see that I was much tougher than I looked; I could only hope that he was right. I tried to reassure myself that the arrow had been intended for smaller prey and any anticoagulant properties it had---if indeed it did have any---would have only a limited effect on me. I was relieved when almost as soon as I had this comforting thought, the bleeding began to ebb and then gradually died away altogether, allowing me to clean and re-wrap my side. I swallowed the strongest painkillers I had in my backpack, and soon even the pain began to subside. I was stiff, and the injury limited movement, but the arrow had pierced me in the left side which was a small blessing---my right arm was my throwing arm.

Injured but safely bound up now, there was nothing left to do but keep walking in search of prey.

After we'd been walking for several minutes it occurred to me that we were not moving as quickly as before. I frowned, not understanding why, then realized that Scar had cut our pace to give me a chance to rest somewhat and recover. This unexpected gesture disarmed me and I felt a twinge of shame for my earlier rejection of his attempts to help.

The hours passed. Once, Scar stopped suddenly, his long hair falling forward before him to the ground as he crouched down to examine a patch of grass and brush. I looked carefully at the spot on which he seemed to be focusing, and saw that the brush had been bent aside and down, as if something large had pushed its way through. I looked around at once to make sure that whatever it was had truly gone on its way and was not lurking nearby; had Scar had not been with me, I would have never noticed these signs of the beast's presence, and would have continued on blindly into its path. Scar crept forward carefully, and I followed, taking heed of his caution and mimicking it. I was nervous, and I didn't have to touch my hands to my skin to know that even in the midst of the oppressive heat surrounding us they were clammy. Soon my ears caught the gurgling of flowing water, and we came out onto another, much larger river than the one across from the village. Scar stopped and examined the ground here as well. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary this time but he seemed to have found more signs of what we were following, because he turned upstream at once, and I followed behind.

Before we had gone several yards we came across the body of one of the giant snakes, lying half-in, half-out of the river. I didn't need to go any closer to see how it had met its end; the cavernous red hole where its head should have been told the story. Scar glanced at the body, but walked by without breaking his stride, and I followed, feeling strangely disappointed that we had been beaten to a kill.

We continued to follow the river's course within several feet of its banks, and not long after stumbling across the anaconda's carcass we finally found what we had been seeking all day. Scar of course, spotted it before I did. Its green and black speckled patterned body nearly camouflaged against the soil, one of the giant monsters lay stretched along the bank. It was utterly still. Catching my eye with a clicking growl, Scar pointed to me, then to the snake, telling me to go make my kill. He grasped my shoulder encouragingly and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him. I dropped my backpack to the ground, and with dread rising in the pit of my stomach, clutched my spear and approached the huge snake slowly. I wondered if this one was already dying or dead as well, because it did not move at all, even when I shakily extended my spear with an audible snap.

I had swallowed more painkillers after the first round I had taken hours earlier, and they were still working, but they could not completely kill the dull ache in my bandaged side nor the throbbing in my shoulder. There was no doubt that I had felt worse before, but I couldn't move as freely from the waist up as I would have liked. I wondered what in the hell I was going to do. Just as I had made up my mind that the best thing to do was to run the snake through with my spear while it was down, dead or not, the huge triangular head finally began to lift itself almost languidly, and I realized that the anaconda had only been sunning itself in the sun's dying rays. I kicked myself angrily for my lost opportunity, but took comfort in the reassuring thought that surely it would be less aggressive....

It was aggressive enough.

As soon as it saw me it came for me. The huge head and body lunged forward and I leaped back at once, almost falling over my feet, so eager was I to avoid its crushing coils and the dagger-like fangs which had erupted from its pink, gaping mouth. I still didn't have a plan but I knew enough not to let the anaconda come within striking distance, because the moment I did, that huge body moving so sinuously across the ground would envelop me in a deadly embrace from which there would be no escape. I scrambled several feet away to where I thought was out of the anaconda's range, and thought quickly while I fearfully eyed it.

The anaconda had missed me because it was still shaking off the sluggishness of sleep. Now that I was closer, I could also see that its midsection protruded heavily all around, so it was probably engorged from a recent meal. It was the luckiest break in the world for me that we had come across this particular snake, because it was the only one I had a prayer of killing by myself without my gun. I knew I had to act before I lost this opportunity as well because I couldn't count on getting another one.

In the meantime the anaconda had grown still, and indeed had not so much as twitched since I sprang away. Its black beady eyes had only rotated slightly, tracking my hasty movement away from it. I didn't know if it was capable of anything other than the crudest of thought processes, but it seemed to be thinking that I wasn't worth its time to kill. I began to slowly raise my spear to shoulder level, but the anaconda shifted with my first movement, growing agitated. I let my arm fall back down to my side, my heart sinking. The anaconda was fast---perhaps faster even than the aliens I had previously killed. I couldn't hope to complete a good throw while it was so focused on me, and it would be suicide to go within reach of its crushing body to impale at close range. I simply wasn't sure that I could hurt it before it hurt me and I really, really didn't want to find out. Besides-----I had only one throw. I needed a distraction, I realized, and the simplest of them occurred to me immediately, the idea so primitive that I wondered if it could even work. Then I recalled that I planned to kill the monster with only a spear and knife. Primitive had left the building a long time ago----I had nothing to lose by trying.

_Except your life......._ my thoughts reminded me unpleasantly.

I didn't dare take my eyes completely off the anaconda, and from the corners of my eyes I cast my eyes around on the ground for a rock but could spot none within my reach. I began to back away from the giant snake in despair, sure that at any second it would lunge for me again---that I would be forced to test my speed against its own---and equally sure that I was all on my own. Behind me, Scar had not made a sound, and instinctively I knew that this was truly my battle—and that I couldn't count on his help.

_Stupid, fucking ritual hunt!_ I thought furiously.

And just then I felt something shift beneath my left foot. Something round and hard. A rock. And just in time, because it was no longer my imagination that the anaconda was beginning to shift again, its interest in me renewed. Already its body was lifting higher from the ground, its mouth was opening and its fangs which had retracted as its agitation had died away, beginning to emerge again from the pink flesh of its hinged jaws—all the better to sink into me and draw me in-- and I saw that my chance was slipping away. Stooping quickly, I grabbed the rock from under my foot without looking, and hurled it towards the snake as far to one side as I could.

As I had prayed, the snake's head turned to follow the moving object near it, and it struck out at the rock automatically. For a few precious moments its eyes came off me completely, and its head and upper body turned away from me. It was all the time that I had, and I seized it. I brought my arm up and hurled the spear with all the strength and force that I could summon. As if time had slowed to a crawl, I felt the spear slip cleanly out of my hands and watched as it flew true, straight towards the anaconda that had already begun to turn back towards me. The spear ran all the way through the snake's neck, piercing it through the throat and protruding grotesquely from the other side.

My breath caught in despair when the snake only stilled, then hope surged again when it began to thrash wildly, whipping its body around in what I was silently praying were its death throes. I backed away from it quickly, trying my best to avoid the immense coiling and uncoiling of that immense body, but its tail swung out and slammed hard into my legs and midsection, knocking me back several feet to the ground. I lay there for a moment, stunned, feeling as if all the air had been knocked out of my body, but forced myself to rise to my feet as quickly as I could, knowing that to remain on the ground was to die.

Still shaken, I retreated to a safer distance and watched as the anaconda's head swung spasmodically in all directions as it writhed, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, apparently in enormous pain. Deciding that I could finally go nearer to it in relatively more safety, I screwed up my courage, and approached carefully, my hunting knife in hand. When the anaconda's head lowered briefly, I took my chance and leaped towards it, bringing the knife down as hard as I could, and embedding it into the top of its skull. Almost immediately it stopped thrashing and sank completely to the ground. Its coiling and uncoiling grew weaker, so I drew back and waited for it to lose its battle. It didn't take long. When the anaconda lay unequivocally dead at my feet, I looked around for Scar. He hadn't moved an inch from where I had left him, but I was mollified to see that he had been completely focused on me and my battle, and was in fact tightly gripping his own spear. He growled something to me, but I wasn't finished yet.

Bending down to the anaconda's body, I pressed the small indentation in the spear that reshaped it into its more compact form, and pulled it out. I looked at the leviathan I had slain. Although it had been a dangerous feat for me which could have easily gone the other way, I felt little pride in my victory. The anaconda had been doing no harm, sunning itself out in the sun, when I had engaged it and forced it to defend itself. Having recently eaten it wouldn't have been ready to hunt again for several weeks. As powerful and lethal as the anaconda had been, its attempt to crush the life from my body wasn't as repugnant to me as the gory, wanton killings that had been the aliens' hallmark. There was no glory for me in the massive body that lay slumped at my feet and I looked away from it.

When I straightened up from the anaconda I felt my shirt move slickly against my skin. Looking down, I saw that the brown circle of dried blood on my top had turned crimson again and was widening with alarming speed. I yanked my top up hastily and realized that the bandage around my side had loosened and that I was gushing blood. So much blood was pouring out, that it had streamed down and was soaking into my jeans, staining them indigo. Uttering a gasp of dismay, I began to turn around, back to where I had dropped my pack to retrieve a new bandage, but halted when I realized that I was swaying where I stood.

I watched with twisted fascination as everything around me began to creep from my field of vision on tiny, spindly legs. I couldn't see or focus on anything. It was as if I was watching the whole world move away from me down a dark tunnel. I sensed rather than saw, Scar moving towards me.

"Scar," I said faintly. "I think...I'm pretty sure...I'm getting too old for this shit....."

Realizing that I was losing consciousness and that I had become too weak to fight it, I just let it happen.


	13. Chapter 13

**_A/N:_**_ C__ompletely forgot that I wanted to reply to a couple of comments:_

**_Elle's Daisy_**_--- absolutely agreed that Solain Rhyo's stories are amazing. I read them all in one go and just couldn't stop wondering what was next. So....this is my version. __Cliffhangers galore, I know! But just think how worse it would have been if I had posted those first chapters one by one...._

**_nicnac_****_: _**_As far as __Lex__ ending up in the Amazon, honestly.....I was surprised too! But it was where Scar decided to take her so what could I do? ;-) _

_As far as Lex saying she's too old, I prefer to think she was just having a bad moment. I'm really rooting for her all the way. (The line was sort of a nod to Danny Glover (Predator 2) by the way)_

**xxx**

I came to on the ground----fingers tearing at my skin, a scream of utter agony bursting from my throat. I was on fire. Some twisted son of a bitch had doused me in gasoline and thrown a match, then sadistically ripped my ribcage open and lit a fire there too. The sensation was unbearable; tears pricked my eyes and I had already hitched in a breath to scream again when unexpectedly the rankling flame in my side began to trail away and a familiar, intense numbness set in instead. My eyes had snapped open with my first awareness of consciousness but instantly squeezed shut again as if to ward off pain. I tried again and this time found that I could bear to keep them open. The first thing I saw when I did so was a large figure crouching next to me.

Scar.

I was seeing him as if through a white mist; I blinked hard to bring him into focus.

He was crouched next to my head with his medical kit lying open at my outstretched feet; some of its contents were strewn on the ground. Dusk was falling now, obscuring most of his features, but I could see that his head was tilted down at me. My arm felt unaccountably heavy and remote from the rest of my body, but I lifted my hand to touch my side; Scar must have completely removed the bandages I had applied because my fingers met only bare skin and drying blood. Exploring further I found that my side was indeed bare, and the small wound that had unexpectedly caused me so much trouble was smeared in a viscous gel. I let my hand drop. I didn't bother to twist my head to look down at my side; I knew that it would be daubed in blue. I would have much preferred to never have to endure the hunters' painful version of healing again, but it seemed that even in the middle of this godforsaken jungle Scar would not allow me to die in peace.

For the first time I realized that I was propped up against something cool and firm, and turned my head slightly to see that my head and upper torso rested against the anaconda's carcass. I turned away, exhausted by even this small effort and lay against the body of my kill, no longer caring that I had felt sorry for it. _If Torry could only see me now_, was my sudden, unbidden thought; I had no doubt that the warden would not approve of the taking of this particular game. Or my hunting partner for that matter.....

Scar drew closer to me and brushed my cheek with his thumb. His hair fanned around my face as he looked down at me, growling, seeming to be asking if I was alright.

"Yes, I think so," I said, nodding weakly. By now my side was almost completely numb, the pain nearly gone, so I struggled to turn onto my side and bring myself to my knees to stand up; these buckled before I could pull myself off them and I sank back quickly to lie down again, dismayed by how weak and dizzy I was; I could barely move my limbs. I must have lost a lot of blood to be feeling so inexplicably drained. The gel had staved off further blood loss, and I had already seen it almost miraculously knit Scar's far more serious wounds, but I wondered now what it could do, if anything at all, for---human---blood loss.

Apparently satisfied that I was out of immediate danger, Scar retraced my steps back to the river's edge. I watched him go; in the failing light his body was no more than a dark figure that moved towards the edge of my limited field of vision before leaving it altogether. I wondered if he was looking for signs of nearby anacondas and somehow the thought did not alarm me. Without moving my head I passed my eyes over what I could see in front of me: the slate gray sky, the high trees outlined sharply against it, the waving rushes near the river. From somewhere Scar grumbled to himself; he was still nearby although I could not see him. I took in all these details detachedly; I was feeling strangely disconnected from my surroundings, as if I had nothing at all to do with it but was only observing through someone else's eyes. I was aware of where I was----that I lay on the hard ground in the middle of the jungle---- but it had no meaning for me. It was as if I had not had the last twelve hours to buffer the shock of it, but had instead been suddenly plucked from my home and dropped into this situation without warning----which wasn't entirely far from the truth.

After a while this uncomfortable feeling of separateness receded and the jungle came back to me. Although it had cost me much to open them, I closed my eyes and tried to lose myself in the silence I knew was somewhere in my head, for there was none to be found here. With the coming of evening the cacophony of sound around us seemed pitched to a fevered intensity; whatever underlying quiet existed was peppered with a continual squawking, fluttering, howling and chattering that never ceased. All around me life stirred----and death lay beneath my head.

_Was this life......my life?_ Forever stalking, killing, being wounded----forever caught up in this morbid circle which wound on and on, and into itself again? If I was not seeking to take away life, I was desperately trying to preserve my own. For a brief, wild moment I wondered why I had let my life become so complicated once more, then immediately I thought of Scar and was reminded why I had......

_Your choice_.

"My choice," I whispered in assent. I waited to see if that insidious little voice in my head would return and was hardly comforted when it did not. Desperately I tried to turn my mind to pleasanter things----simpler things that did not require anything resembling thinking on my part. Suddenly remembering the intoxicating effect that had overtaken me when I first used the hunter's medicine, I perked up a little. If ever I wanted to lose myself in sweet, unknowing oblivion it was at that moment. I awaited it hopefully, impatiently even, and was soon rewarded with a softly pleasant buzz. I prepared to sink into it contentedly, but much to my utter disgust it began to fade after only a few minutes. All I could think was that that my body must have learned to adjust to the hunters' medicine somehow. That I had apparently used it enough times to build up a resistance to it was not a good thing, I scolded myself. Not good at all. This distraction having proven a failure, my mind turned again to the blood that I had lost; I should eat something I realized, and fast. I looked around for my backpack then groaned when I saw it lying several feet away where I had dropped it. Getting to it was going to be a problem.

Scar's rumbling had stopped and he returned as he usually did----with long, silent strides and seeming to appear out of nowhere. His head tilted to the side, and he looked at me then across to the back pack at which I was still staring anxiously, then walked over to pick it up and bring it to me. "Thanks," I said gratefully, already rummaging inside for one of my bars. He growled some response and settled himself next to me. Unwrapping the bar, I bolted it down in as large of pieces as I could manage; already I felt a little better. I had no appetite and could not relish it, but telling myself to think of it as medicine I managed to eat a second, precious one. I finished it then shifted my position t my head lay against Scar's arm, and lifted my own to rest along his leg. He caught my hand up at once, running the rough skin of his palm over mine and beginning the rumble in his chest that was so familiar to me. As I relaxed, my breathing slowed and my eyelids began to droop downwards. I pressed my face closer into his arm, and inhaled his scent, letting myself be comforted by it, and his huge presence that had come to mean so many things to me; safety, friendship, laughter, affection....

Feeling needed and wanted sleep creeping up on me I fell into it gratefully.

Although I was weary I dozed fitfully, continually coming in and out of sleep. Once I awoke to find myself propped against the carcass once more, and Scar no longer there. My distress was immediate, but I didn't have the strength to fight the drowsiness when it reclaimed me a few moments later. When I woke again some time later with a brief start, remembering, Scar was settled next to me again, my head on his thigh, and his arm encircling my body. I tried to raise my head to speak, to ask how long I had been sleeping, but only managed to mumble a few unintelligible words before I drifted away once again. When I next opened my eyes, I was roused to alertness instantaneously, partly by the unwelcome discovery that the numbness in my side had retreated and some pain had returned; and by the fact that the forest looked different. Night had completely fallen, the darkness relieved by a bright moon that shone overhead, visible now that we were no longer in the depths of the forest. Scar was looking down at me and I wondered how long I had in fact been asleep, and wondered even more that he had let me rest as long as I apparently had.

I knew I had to get used to moving again as much as I wanted to stay down, so I forced myself to try to come to my feet. The simple effort winded me. Scar came to his feet as well but when he saw that I could stand unaided only watched with a careful eye. I dragged my shirt up far enough to examine the damage the arrow had done, and it was probably not my imagination that the hole seemed smaller. I worried still. The gel had spared me further blood loss but I could not know for certain that it had done anything to replenish the blood I knew I had already lost in copious quantities. Which made me worry about the future: as miraculous as the hunter's gel was, it wasn't intended for human use. What would happen to me if I needed medical help beyond what it could provide? I could not be sure that the hunters' medicine prove to be as innocuous. Shaking myself, I pushed these worries away; thinking about them now would not do me any good and would only distract me from the hunt at hand. At any rate, some of my strength had returned to me and I was sufficiently healed to allow us to continue.

Frowning a little, I pulled my shirt back down and looked across at Scar who was studying the anaconda's carcass closely. As I expected, he knelt to extract a trophy and I watched as he extended his wrist blades and swiftly swung them down, severing the anaconda's head in one precise blow. I expected him to turn his attention now to stripping it of skin and flesh, but instead he looked down at the head, up at me, back down to it-----then up at me again. He seemed for all the world to be trying to figure out a problem.

Tapping the head, he motioned me to pick it up.

"That's okay," I said quickly, backing away and wrinkling my nose in disgust. The anaconda's head was huge, and well..._dead_, and I had no intention of lugging it with me----glorious trophy or not. "I'll take something else." With an effort, I knelt next to him and pulled my knife out from its resting place in the snake's skull. I had just started to pry out one of the snake's fangs when Scar's hand shot out and caught the knife's blade between his fingers. He pulled me to my feet and dropped the head into my arms with a growl that clearly communicated that the matter was not open to debate. I looked at his dark outline in despair. Was this a part of the hunt's ritual? I had to carry it? _Them_---if I killed any more. We were already many hours away from both camp and village and I knew many more would likely pass before we returned to either. That I was also injured only made things more difficult.

The anaconda's head was heavy, but not obscenely so. The bigger problem that I could see was that it was an awkward shape and impossibly large. An easy burden for a hunter's large armspan, but staggering to mine; it was already starting to slide out of my grasp. I shook my head in frustration, thinking again that I would never understand the predators' obsession with collecting body parts. But since, once again, it seemed I had no choice, I set my mind to coming up with some type of solution. Studying the problem, it occurred to me that I could probably fashion some kind of sling that could center the head's weight against my body and make it easier to carry.

I dropped the head to the ground and cast my eyes around me, thinking. In the poor light the trees nearby were nothing more than ink-black giants, but from what I remembered, they were covered in all manner of creeping vines. A single vine wouldn't be sturdy enough to support the head's weight, but perhaps I could tie several together to suit the purpose I had in mind. I picked up my knife from the ground where Scar had let it drop, and moved cautiously towards the trees, almost blind in the near-darkness. I came up against a trunk and began to feel around it with my hands for vines of the right thickness and pliability, hoping all the while that in the darkness my hands would not brush against anything more alive than they. Methodically, I cut and pulled down the vines I wanted, stuffing them into the waist of my jeans so I wouldn't lose them on the ground that I barely see below my feet. When I thought I had a sufficient amount, I made my way back to where Scar stood, the dark outline of his head cocked. I don't know what he was thinking, but I'm sure I must have looked like I'd lost my mind.

I seated myself on the ground near the anaconda, and began to carefully separate the vines by thickness. I had no skill in weaving, but I certainly knew something about the knots that all serious climbers learned for safety's sake. Mostly by feel, I looped and knotted the vines into each other using a basic netting knot, which although not fancy, would hold securely and keep the shape I was so painstakingly forming. After a great deal of effort I fashioned a crude sling that would drape asymmetrically across my back, over my backpack, leaving my hands free for my spear.

I came to my feet and pulled my bloodied top over my head and pulled on the clean shirt I had in my backpack. Wincing with the movement, I bent down and almost worked myself up into a sweat trying to drag my jeans off. I replaced these with hiking pants. When I had finished changing, I crumpled top and jeans into a ball and tossed them into the darkness of the trees. I put on my backpack, then took up the sling and rolled the head into it. I stood up and carefully positioned the sling around my neck and across my shoulders, settling the head against my back and twisting my arms gingerly from side to side to test its comfort. Even on my back it was still an unwieldy burden, especially with my backpack's additional weight below it. Fortunately the latter was cushioning some of the pressure on my back, and saved me from having to endure the feel of the anaconda's scaly skin rubbing through the thin material of my shirt.

Scar had watched all this quietly, head tilted in the perpetual curiosity I seemed to elicit from him, but he approached me now and raising his hand, ran his fingers along the sling's outer vines, tracing its outline against my body, and stopping to finger a knot here and there. Using one hand he hefted the head up several inches then let it drop. The weight of the head falling downward behind me made me stagger back a little---but the sling held.

Scar gave a bark of approval and I snorted, but with little real sarcasm behind the sound. I was still tired and my back was already tightening in protest of the many hours of burdened walking I sensed was ahead.

"Thanks," I said wearily.

When Scar growled softly to move on again, I followed without a word.

**A/N**: Hmm....not a whole lot happened in this chapter---but it was rather an important one all the same. And look, no cliffhanger!


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**: Did I ever mention how much I love Lex?

**frnight**: long trip isn't the word---there's so much walking it's making even me tired!

**Princess Akaichou**---Thanks so much, I love that you love each chapter ;-)

**Elle's Daisy**---From what I understand, the blue gel derives from Predator 2; Lex was introduced to it in the original stories, so it's not my own idea. And yes, pure agony apparently!

**xxx**

We were still walking after evening passed on into the deepest black of the jungle night, darkness even more complete because we had left the open air of the river and returned to the trees again. By this time I was fully in the embrace of listlessness---the hours were stretching by in almost complete silence except from an occasional growl or grunt from Scar, and without interruption save for the occasional halt that he called, whether to consider the direction in which we were going I could only guess. My reflexes had taken over---my feet were moving mechanically and I was dodging the obstacles I couldn't see without pausing to think about it. To my faint surprise the first of the night's shadows had also brought about an unexpected change; Scar had cut back our pace, imperceptibly at first, until we were merely creeping forward. Apparently I was not the only one having difficulty finding the way in the dark; whatever technology I had long suspected the predators used to see in the dark, Scar obviously wasn't using it now. At any other time, that surprising fact would have sent my imagination in a whirlwind, imagining the hows and whys. Now I only mentally filed it away to ponder later; I was far too tired and dejected to think about it right then.

So when a series of loud cries arose on the air, I barely noticed. Scar growled and stopped at once. When the noise persisted, rising in volume over even the ever-present cacophony of forest sounds that I was becoming used to, I finally raised my head and paid attention, it coming to me with a troubled start that although I couldn't understand a word, we were in fact hearing human voices.

"What's going on?" I asked softly, more to hear my own voice than any other reason----I hadn't had occasion to say anything aloud for quite some time. Scar's hand fell to my shoulder and I lapsed into silence. His fingers tightened around it slightly as he listened, and after a few moments, he began to move again, this time to our right, snarling softly to me. It seemed that we were about to look for the source of all the commotion.

The shouting hadn't stopped and we followed it easily. Strangely, it seemed to be coming from somewhere below us. When we unexpectedly emerged from the tree cover onto open ground, I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized I could see what lay in front of me once more. Overhead the moon sailed clear and bright, and I thought I had never seen such a beautiful sight before. I was still looking up at the heavens when Scar suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked me back before I could move past him. I winced soundlessly; he had unwittingly manipulated the shoulder that hurt. When he moved again, carefully, I followed. He stopped abruptly and peered down at the ground with a soft growl. I went to him and peered down as he was doing. We were standing at the edge of a slope; he had stopped me just in time from taking another tumble.

The slope was not a very high one but from this vantage point, a village sprawled below us in the floor of a shallow valley. My first amazed thought was that we had been moving in a circle, and had come back to the village from which the hunt had begun, but a closer inspection of what was visible of this village's layout showed clearly that it was a different one. It was partially immersed in the darkness that not even the moon could entirely illuminate, but on the slope's near side several standing torches threw their light on a man sitting at a small, roughly hewn table on which three handguns lay. Scattered among the guns were several small boxes of what could only be ammunition. Five rifles leaned against the wooden wall of a nearby hut. The gleam of their dark metal told of a recent oiling and cleaning. When the man stood up to add the rifle he had been cleaning to their number, the light caught his features and I saw.

It was Torry.

Scar and I watched silently as he turned his attention to the guns on the table, picking one up and flipping its chamber open. Four men hovered near the edge of the table who seemed to be the source of the loud cries we had heard. They gestured at Torry, shouting wildly. Torry ignored them completely; his attention focused the gun he cradled between his palms, and he picked up one of the boxes and spilled its contents onto the table. From these, he selected a round and dropped it into the gun, every jerked movement advertising his suppressed anger.

One of his onlookers, a lanky man in a red shirt, came closer to him and pounded his fist on the table, yelling at Torry again. I jumped when I caught and understood one of the man's words that carried clearly on the air; a word that must have meant the same thing in his tongue as it did in English.

_Anaconda._

This must have finally pushed Torry past his breaking point, because he sprang to his feet, and began to shout as well----in the villagers' tongue. The man who had confronted him responded with another heated retort of his own, and the two glared at each other across the table. For several long moments it seemed they were about to come to blows, then the man broke eye contact and backed away, still yelling. Torry looked at him for a moment then sat back down heavily and picked up the gun again. The man fell silent, and looked at Torry for a few tense seconds as he continued to ignore him. Finally he turned heel and stalked off. Even at that distance I could read the fury evident in each line of his body. One by one, the other men followed him, casting angry, anxious looks back at the warden.

I needed no translation. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good; I felt it in every bone in my body. When I had met Torry earlier that day he hadn't known anything of the predators or their presence in the jungle, of that I was sure. Yet here he was, embroiled in a heated argument about the anacondas, the hunt's prey. So then with a familiar, sickening feeling rising in my stomach I knew. Somehow the warden had found out---and was furious about it. So furious that he was arming himself, and perhaps others judging by the number of firearms that he was preparing for use. I hadn't thought to wonder whether the hunters' existence was known beyond the single village that had welcomed us into their midst, but the fact that the men confronting Torry apparently knew was a sign of their complicity, if not their cooperation. The predators' compact with the people of these forests obviously reached wider than I could have guessed.

While these thoughts were still running frantically through my mind, Scar straightened away from the slope and snarled nastily. It rose low in his throat and rumbled through his chest, and it was terrible to hear. His spear reflected the moonlight, sharp and unflinching, as he drew it from his back, and his arm blades sprang out with a sound that brought old memories flooding back......

And in a flash I saw that Scar had seen and understood as well----that this human intended to hunt that night as well; to interfere with the hunt---to the hunters, an unforgivable trespass as I had tragic cause to know. I understood what Torry was feeling, only too well because my emotions had once mirrored his; anger, dread, and fear of the alien creatures that seemed to have descended from nowhere like a deadly invasion. But I also understood that his plan made him no more than a dead man walking, and probably every person in this quiet village as well if they had the misfortune to pick up the weapons Torry was obviously urging on them. Listlessness had fled with the first inkling of trouble and now an icy chill settled over me. So many lives at stake......and I was the only person who could do something about it—for I had a sinking feeling that I already knew what I could do---what had to be done. I felt sick to my stomach with the knowledge but battled the sensation of nausea desperately----I had already allowed fear to paralyze me once before that day, to my needling shame. Now when the danger was only too real, when it lay within my power to turn aside the same fate that had befallen my team, I couldn't---_wouldn't_ fail to act now. How could I possibly live with myself if I didn't?

I moved next to Scar quickly, dropping the sling clumsily to the ground. He turned to me, still snarling.

"Wait, let me stop this!" I exclaimed. Scar ignored me and pushed past, his momentum nearly knocking me over. I rushed in front of him to plant my body in his path, my feet dangerously close to the slope's edge.

"Stop! _STOP!_" I ordered insistently, growing desperate when I saw that he was going to move past me again. When he raised his arm and swept me aside, I lost my temper and kicked him as hard as I could in the back of his calf. He whirled around immediately, his hair arcing behind him to fall in a dark clatter against his back.

Without a sound he approached me slowly, almost threateningly, and I wondered if he was trying to intimidate me. Another predator advancing on me with this serious stillness would have stricken me with fear---but not Scar. My heart thudded loudly in my ears. I _was_ afraid and deeply so. But not of him; not anymore, I knew that as surely as I drew breath. What made me tremble was the night's fatal consequences if I didn't stand my ground------if I didn't stop the bloodshed Scar intended to unleash. As I had known he would, Scar halted in front of me, and only looked down at me, growling harshly. It mightn't have been in a way he liked but I had his attention now.

"I need to be the one to stop this," I said, looking up at the angular mask that I could barely see.

Slowly, carefully, I lifted my hand and placed it on the arm that gripped his spear.

He growled again when I touched him but he seemed to be listening.

"Please don't do anything yet. Just trust me," I begged, letting every emotion I was feeling sound in my words, willing him to understand them. A chittering growl was my answer, and his arm lowered gradually to the ground. I waited, uncertain what this meant. When his blades slid back into his gauntlet and he growled again, softly, I took it as assent.

"I'll be back soon," I whispered, dropping my own hand and stepping away. I moved to the edge of the slope and braced myself for a clumsy descent. Luckily, the slope was not steep, descending to the ground in a rather gentle incline, so plucking up my courage I crouched down, grabbed a handful of plants, and using them to keep myself from falling headfirst down the slope, gingerly began to pick my way down. The pain in my side and shoulder flared up with the first wrenching movement but I shoved the sensation away from the forefront of my mind; I was praying all the while that Scar would remain where he was. When I reached the ground, after having had to slide down partly on my ass to get there, I turned to look back up. I could just make out the outline of Scar's head and shoulders leaning over the edge. He was still there, watching and waiting to see what I would do. I exhaled deeply, then began to head for the village, my stomach in hard knots.

_Okay Lex, now what?_ I asked myself silently but of course I already knew---I had to stop the warden. By whatever means I had to. I tried not to let my eyes slide away from the path before me into the surrounding darkness; I couldn't afford to let the small amount of courage I had summoned slip away from me. As much as I was not looking forward to running into Torry again, I breathed a shaky sigh of relief when the first line of homes loomed before me. I moved forward carefully. Although I didn't really expect to be set upon here so close to the village, my experience had taught me that terrible things could erupt unexpectedly from the dark....

As keyed as my senses were for the slightest movement, a figure shifting a few feet away, alerting me to another's presence, sent my blood pumping. A man leaning back in a chair outside his home probably enjoying the cooler night, jerked upright and sent up a warning shout when he spotted my figure emerging from the darkness, but it died in his throat as I neared him. He remained frozen where he sat, staring open-mouthed at the mark on my cheek.

_Good_, I thought grimly. _Let them be afraid_---_this time._ It would make my job easier.

I walked past the man without another glance, conscious that although he had not moved, his eyes followed me. Movement ahead and on each side of me shaped themselves from the darkness as people running up, attracted by the man's shout. They came to an abrupt halt when they saw me. I kept walking, my unease growing when out of the corners of my eyes I saw that one by one, they had silently begun to trail me.

I arrived amidst an unearthly, unnatural silence, followed by many silent onlookers. Even Torry, stubbornly bent over the table to his dangerous work, looked up, scowling, as I neared. Now that I was closer, I noticed the telling details: the rumpled clothing, the hair dishevelled as if he had been running his hands frantically through it. For a fraction of an instant, I glimpsed the real emotion behind his fury: fear. He was scared to death. If I hadn't been so anxious to take him down I would have felt sorry for him. Then his eyes widened in shock when he saw me.

"Lex!" he exclaimed, the gun dangling from his fingers, its open chamber empty. He took in what must have been my bedraggled appearance and his dark expression was replaced by concern. "What happened to you? Are you alright?" he asked.

I had only wondered before, but I knew now; Torry still didn't know who, or rather _what_, I was because he was not alarmed to see me, only surprised.

_You can do this.....You can do this....._ I repeated silently_. _Not taking my eyes off Torry, I said nothing and moved closer to the table, making sure that I stood on the side closest to the guns that still lay there.

Torry had been leaning forward as he spoke, about to rise from the table---to come towards me--- but he leaned away now, a guarded light playing in his eyes. I offered him a small smile of what I hoped looked like reassurance.

"Tell me Torry, how did a Rolex-wearing guy like you end up the guardian of an Amazon jungle?" I asked.

My abrupt question threw him off guard which was what I wanted, and even made him a little angry. But to my surprise he answered me. "My mother was born here," he said testily. "I was as well but I grew up in the U.K. Why do you ask? What's this about?"

I thought I understood now why the villagers had so inexplicably allowed the warden to come close to the truth. Although he had grown up outside the village, outside their traditions, in a way he was one of them. But as Torry uttered the last words of his reply, I smoothly picked up the gun I had earlier seen him load, clicked the safety off and pointed it at him. Torry's jaw dropped, but he made no effort to rise or to lunge for me. He only stared as if he couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing.

"Wh---what are you doing?" he asked incredulously.

I was exhausted. My body cried out for rest with each breath that I took, and everything that had hurt before still did, but I knew a long night lay ahead. I was heartsick about what I was about to do, but I had to see it through. For the sake of every innocent life in the village---and for my own sanity.

"Stopping you. I can't let you interfere with the hunt Torry," I said quietly. If it had not been obvious before that I knew what was going on, it was obvious now, and I watched as his jaw slackened and fell, and comprehension dawned in his face.

"You---_you_ know about...them? How?" he asked in disbelief.

I paused. There was no way to succinctly answer that question. I shook my head finally.

"You've got to stop what you're doing before it's too late," I said, ignoring his question, and finding myself surprised that my voice was not betraying my nervousness. "I don't know how much you've been told about the hunters, but trust me the last thing you want to do is to get in the way of their hunt!" I said,

"You're serious aren't you," Torry said wonderingly. He roused himself from the shock that my revelation had induced. "You still haven't told me what you've got to do with all this," he said. "How do _you_ know? I only just found out about this whole mess myself!"

He rose abruptly and came towards me, ignoring the gun that I still held pointed at him.

"Lex," he said, his voice softening. "Please....you and I....we live in the real world. I know you don't believe in this crazy ritual either. We should be working together," he coaxed.

I took a step back and brought the gun up to bear on his head. This brought him to a standstill. "Don't. Don't come any closer," I said, my voice quavering slightly. I was quickly despairing of a benign outcome.

"Okay, okay," he said hastily. He held his hands up, palms out, and slowly stepped away. "See, I'm backing off."

I took a deep breath and forced my voice to become calm, forced myself to sound like a reasonable person---not like a woman clinging to the threads of her sanity. "You asked what I was doing here--- I'm here to stop a massacre," I said steadily. "Not the anacondas.....you, and the people in this village. Maybe even the other villages too. They _will _kill anyone who gets in the hunt's way!"

Torry looked at me incredulously. "How do you know they won't kill anyway?" he asked sharply.

"It doesn't matter how I know, I just do," I said flatly.

A light bulb must have gone off in Torry's head, because abruptly his mouth snapped shut over whatever he was about to say and he stared at me, then a tight smile played across his lips and he folded his arms.

"Well, why don't I take a stab at it anyway? You lied to me about when you got here. It wasn't just a coincidence that you showed up today when all this started happening was it? These hunters as you call them must be the group you mentioned earlier," he said, once again startling me with his perceptiveness. My eyes must have flickered acknowledgment of the truth of what he said, because he nodded affirmation of his own statement. For the first time since we had met, his eyes fell to the mass of twisting scars on my arms---and lingered there, pityingly. I was immediately irritated, but batted it away. Now wasn't the time to take things personally.

"Are you afraid of them—is that it? You don't have to be. Help me! Tell me what you know about them and I promise I'll make sure they don't hurt you," he urged, dropping his arms and looking at me eagerly.

I almost laughed.

"I don't need protection, and even if I did, you couldn't give it to me," I said bluntly. "Just stay out of their way, _please_. They'll leave once the hunt is over. And no one will get hurt!" I was unashamedly begging at this point, beseeching him to see reason.

Torry's expression changed, it grew harder. He looked at me with eyes of chipped flint.

"Are you actually suggesting that I let those—those _things_wander around without doing something about it?" he asked coldly. "Why are you so godamned sure about anything? We're talking about _aliens_for chrissakes!" He closed his eyes and began to rub his temples as if he was feeling the onset of a severe headache. "I must be crazy because I'm saying the word although I don't half believe it. I still wouldn't believe it if I hadn't spotted one out on the hills," he muttered, eyes still closed.

"Did you tell anyone about them?" I asked, alarmed.

Torry's eyes flew open. He dropped his hands from his face abruptly and suddenly looked weary. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I radioed it in but of course no-one believed me. I'll be lucky if I still have a job tomorrow," he muttered.

He began to chuckle, a deep sound that veered into shrillness and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, because it spoke of an underlying hysteria that threatened to break free at any second.

"And the anacondas! I've been warden here for three years and I've never seen any the size of the ones that have been turning up all afternoon! But as far as anyone else knows, they don't even exist!" Torry said throwing his head back and laughing loudly as if he thought it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "Their heads were missing, did you know that Lex? I bet you already knew didn't you? One huge conspiracy....and I'm the only one not in on it!" he said, wiping away tears of laughter.

Still laughing he began to move towards me again, arms outstretched as if to embrace me in his mirth----he was losing it, I panickingly realized----and if this harrowing conversation went on much longer I wouldn't be too far behind. He was almost within reach before I had the presence of mind to point the gun upwards and fire a shot into the air. The harshly echoing sound brought Torry up short; he looked at me startled. The fear in his eyes was only for me. With the gun I motioned to the chair in which he had been sitting then pointed it back at him.

"Don't....please," I said, my voice catching on something there, something that was tightening it uncomfortably. I cleared my throat and added, "Sit down."

I don't know if it was the gunshot or the catch in my voice that did it, but Torry sobered in an instant, that disturbing smile dying away, and he slowly retreated and sat down on the edge of the chair heavily.

He looked up at me with an air of resignation. "So what happens now? Are you going to kill me?" he asked quietly.

I hesitated. I didn't know the answer to that question, and it was a very good one. "I don't want to," I said, even as I wondered if it was the smartest idea to admit it.

Torry's eyes left mine and he looked around desperately, making a silent, last-ditch appeal to the people who had kept this monumental secret from him. The small crowd surrounding us had not stirred throughout our exchange, and they did not move now. Every face looked back at him blankly and he saw that they would not help him. At least, that was what I was counting on. Torry stilled, then looked back at me, his eyes glazed over in defeat. I finally felt like I was gaining control of the situation, although things hadn't gone at all as I had planned. It would have been easier for me if Torry had been hostile and hateful. But even when he had looked at me with those cold eyes, I still saw a man who truly believed he was doing the right thing. My resolve wavered and I decided to give him one more chance to back down.

"You wouldn't survive what you're planning," I said carefully, calmly. "The best thing you can do for yourself and these people is to leave the hunters alone, you've got to see that! I'm asking for the last time, will--will you let the hunt go on or not?" I asked, my heart thundering in my ears.

Torry dropped his head to stare at his hands lying clasped against his knees and didn't answer. Several seconds ticked by and still he sat silently. My nerves were almost frayed beyond by this time but still he said nothing and no one else stirred. A baby's cry broke the warm night, but that was the only sound we heard for some moments that stretched as if they would never end.

When Torry finally spoke his voice was so low I could only make out his words with difficulty. "You're mad.....you must be if you're protecting them," he mumbled. He shook his head almost absent-mindedly and his voice dropped lower as if he was talking to himself; I caught a few mumbled words, ".....won't stand by....I can't....not right....." and my heart sank. He raised his head suddenly and stared at me. The expression on his face froze my blood. "You're really on their side aren't you? I don't get it, I just don't.....What kind of person _are_ you?" he asked, now past even anger, sounding only completely and utterly bewildered.

His words----_that_ _look_---were a small dagger in my heart but I stifled the melancholy that threatened to surge up and paralyze me.

"I'm not on...I'm sorry about this Torry....I truly am. I know you don't understand....and...and it won't make a difference to you but...I just need you to know that," I stammered, my voice cracking horribly.

Lowering the gun, I squeezed the trigger for a second time---shooting him pointblank in the right thigh. He screamed, a constricted sound that issued as if from the throat of a stricken animal, and clutched his leg. Shifting the gun a little to one side, I fired again, this time sending a bullet through his left shin. He slid onto the ground and rolled onto his back, moaning as blood streamed down his legs in crimson rivers. His groans of pain made me ill but I hardened my heart to shoot him once more, this time in his arm.

I dropped my arm and watched Torry writhe on the ground. I had incapacitated him---painfully---but I knew the alternative would have been so much worse.....

The shots had rung out, ear-splittingly loud in the unnatural silence, but still none of the people moved---they watched us silently like so many ghosts. When the report of the third shot finally died away, a young woman stepped forward, tentatively, as if she expected me to turn on her at any moment. She bent and grabbed Torry's arms, her glossy black braid of hair dangling in front of her, and after a moment's hesitation began to pull him away from where he lay crumpled before me. When her eyes met mine guiltily before darting away I knew who had told the village's secret.

Her courageous act—and I couldn't help but recognize it as such---broke the spell I seemed to have cast over the crowd. Another man rushed up to help her and I watched as they dragged Torry from the circle of torch lights, still groaning, towards the darkness of the houses, where I could only guess he would be cared for, and guarded, until the hunt was over. A dirty red streak marked the direction in which they had dragged him.

Unsure of what came next now that I had accomplished what I came to do, I looked around at the small circle surrounding me, at the human faces staring back at me; witnesses to the awful, unforgivable thing I had just done. I waited anxiously to see what they would do. Would they seize me now? Would they take up arms against the hunters? Had all this----been for nothing? A few tense moments passed then I was relieved when as if by unspoken consensus, the small crowd broke up and began to drift away. The man in the red shirt who had confronted Torry, then stood aside and let this all happen, paused as he passed the hut where the rifles leaned and picked one up. I watched nervously to see what he would do, fingering the gun I had used to shoot Torry which still lay in my hand ready to be used again. He opened the chamber, and the rounds dropped harmlessly to the ground, one by one. He unloaded all the rifles this way, flinging each to the ground, then walked away without a backward glance. I almost collapsed in relief to see this, because it meant that the only hunters that night would the predators and I. The danger had passed.

Weak with relief that it was all over, I turned to walk back the way I came. My eyes were open but I was lost in my thoughts, seeing little of what was in front of me; my feet retraced my previous path of their own accord. I knew of course that what I had done was wasn't my enemy; under different circumstances we might have even been friends. He hadn't deserved what I'd done to him. He had done nothing----_said_ nothing that I probably wouldn't have in his place---once before. Perhaps the look of admiration I had seen in his eyes had only been my imagination after all, but however he had felt towards me before, he would only hate me now. What I had done would be yet another shadow hanging over me in the days to come, but even searching my conscience now I found that I didn't regret what I had done. I had already learned that the line between right and wrong could shift in ways I never dreamed possible; that the right decision could haunt just as much as the wrong one....

I was thinking of Sebastian. And to my wonder, I wasn't crying.

When I reached the slope down which I had come I stopped uncertainly, wondering how I was going to get back up. Scar dropped down lightly next to me and tilted his head at me. He hooked one arm around my waist and grasping me firmly to him, he easily bounded back up the incline. When he set me down again, he didn't immediately release his hold but turned me to face him. When he only stood there, I wondered what he was doing. He brought his large hands up and framed them at my temples, cupping my face in his hands, and bent his head down towards mine, stopping only a few inches away. His mask looked back at me so I could only guess what he was doing, but he seemed to be examining my face closely. I didn't know if he found what he was looking for, but after a few moments he stroked mycheek gently and dropped his hands.

We turned to retrace our steps and when I stooped to pick up the anaconda's head from where I had let it drop, I realized that I was still holding Torry's gun. Calling to Scar to wait I flipped the gun over and removed all the cartridges that were left, clumsily using my shirt to wipe my fingerprints off the gun as best as I could. I didn't know if the law reached this far into the jungle but I preferred not to take the chance. I walked to the other edge of the slope where below us, there was nothing but dark trees. Swinging the gun over my head, I flung it as hard and as far as I could into the darkness. I heard a few thuds as the gun bounced down the slope, then gratifyingly, a faint splash a few seconds later as it fell into some waterway that I could not see. I walked back to Scar, slinging the head onto my back.

We walked away; away from the valley, away from blood, and plunged into the dark jungle. After a few minutes we had left the village completely behind.


	15. Chapter 15

_**OceanFire9**: Hand across heart, I was the first person to write a review on your story---even before you reviewed mine! Sent it from my stupid phone on Monday (?) but I guess it never went through. Anyway, Team Predator all the way absolutely. Just left a new review._

_Glad the characterisations work, I tried my best not to screw with them. And actually, I am mind-linked---to Scar rowr! A couple's retreat predator style, ha love it! I plant a flag on that idea! Mine! j/k Another true story: after finishing "Solitary Trial" I distinctly remember thinking "Holy shit....Lex deserves a vacation. I hope Scar takes her someplace nice. Maybe somewhere warm."_

_**Dragowolf**: Thanks so much! Glad you've enjoyed so far and hope you'll continue to._

_**AbiiThePrat**: o_O Whoa! Can't remember the last time I felt so flattered by someone I've never met. A little jealous actually---I'd give anything to be able to read them again for the "first" time_

_**frnight**: Honestly didn't think of the fact that Scar would have expected Lex to participate in his retribution as well.....as far as he's concerned she's as good as a predator and its her hunt too. I just assumed that he planned to take Torry out himself with a single swipe (he so could). good point!_

_**Elle's daisy**: As far as seeing Torry again, my honest answer is: yes, and at the same time.....no. Lex pretty much did him in for a good while---which was the point. I can always go back and have her get in a couple of shots to his kneecaps just to make sure ;-)._

_PS Sorry to those checking out my profile only to find a very blank space. Whenever it has crossed my mind to actually put something up there, I discover something else to do. Every. Time. Like right now._

**xxx**

The nocturnal keening of a predator, one of Earth's own, arose somewhere nearby, startling me. Its cry clung lonely to the humid air, each sobbing note announcing a ravenous hunger and intent to spill blood that night to satisfy it. I listened without lifting my head. Even though I knew I could afford to pay no mind to the macabre warning—Scar's massive body walking a pace before and to the side of me was all the assurance of safety I could ask for---a light chill raced down my spine. The creature repeated its feral cry a second, third time, then fell silent. Other forest cries that had died away at the first wailing note began again, tentatively, then in increased succession until they drowned out the brief, eerie silence that had fallen. Gone was the listless oblivion into which I had earlier lapsed; traces of adrenaline from the night's earlier peril pumped through my system still although hours must have passed. Mind-numbing exhaustion temporarily banished, I was adrift in miserable reflection. I had not wanted to hurt Torry, would have avoided it if I could---but experience had hardened me enough to know that it simply hadn't been an option. I knew, I _knew,_ I had done the only thing that could have spared the lives of the people on whom the hunters had impressed such a dangerous and unnatural duty--- and the warden's as well. And miraculously.....unexpectedly, I had also been led to the welcomed realization that I was no longer enslaved by Sebastian's memory.

For these reasons alone I should have felt only a freeing release---the snapping of one more rope, one of several that I could sometimes feel binding me tight around the chest, that got in the way of easy breathing...

Instead a fretful restlessness had begun to gnaw at me mercilessly not long after we plunged into the forest, after the last crushing waves of relief had subsided, after surrealism had relented and returned me to something resembling normalcy; I was newly unhappy, growing uneasy in a vague way I didn't understand---and this troubled me.

No, that wasn't quite true. I knew the source of my uneasiness, even if I didn't know why it plagued me so.

I was haunted again.

Not by the warden, crumpled helplessly in the dirt before me, blood streaming from the shots I had fired into his body, but--- incongruously----by the few still moments before that had caught me off guard, stunned me.....

The look of raw betrayal etched across his face when he had finally stopped fighting what was becoming patently clear, when it had sunk in that not only did I know of the alien hunters---but that somehow, I was _of_ them. And that I stood with them.

_Betrayal_.

It was an ugly, accusing word and I flinched as I thought it, but it was the only one that could describe the look that vulnerability and desperation had laid bare----a look I never again wanted to see in human eyes.

That_ look_....

Freed of the guilt of my past crime, I couldn't shake the feeling now that I had been accused, tried and convicted of a new one.

Objectively, I could peel back the layers of my doomed encounter with the warden to see why it had had to be so. In the desperation of that night turned insane, after witnessing the carnage wreaked by predator and prey on each other--- and on my team, I had seen and understood that like it or not, choosing a side was the only way to survive. What would have otherwise been unthinkable, had suddenly been the only real choice, born of necessity and the simple human desire to live. This night the choice had been to stay on the good side of the humanoid hunters----or die. The warden had not had that insight and I had not been able to give it to him. He did not know---could not know, how death could be borne so swiftly, unswervingly, on long, steeled blades, and I could not have been so callous to visit upon him the unhappy circumstances that had taught me that. I hadn't had the luxury of time to tell Torry the story of who I had been, all that I had seen----to explain what grim truths could drive a decision like the one I had asked him to make. But perhaps there was no such thing as "enough" time to explain; perhaps no way to appreciate the devil for yourself until you felt him breathing down your back...

A part of me wanted to scream at Scar, to rage my pain. To hate him for bringing me here, for bringing me face to face with this—this condemnation—but I couldn't. I knew better. I had known only too well who he was, _what_ he was, when I had put my hands into his and followed. He was who he was---who I wanted and accepted him for. To summon anger now when it suited me would have made me nothing but a hypocrite. As expectant as I had been that I would be leaving this world for another unknown, I simply hadn't expected to be thrust into this crossroad between the hunters and human, to be faced with this unnatural choice, but I should have known it was always a possibility---should have prepared myself anyway. God knows I had seen worse things...._done_ worse things, but it had still hurt to commit this violation. Torry's only sin had been being in the wrong place at the absolute worst time. He had paid for it.

As I had, once upon a time.

Objectively...objectively I understood, had tried to reconcile myself to the chilling accusation in the same instant I read it in his eyes. But it was asking too much to be entirely objective, I thought sadly, only too aware of the irony. I was only human after all.

Subjectively, _personally---_the look in his eyes had made a part of me die.

And as Scar and I walked, still onwards through the night, as we weaved through the tangle of trees, a succession of conflicting emotions descended upon me, one by one, like dark goblins alighting from the branches above, to sit atop my shoulders and whisper their ill tidings into my ears. Every doubt, every worry, that I had studiously tried to ignore since Scar had returned to me, that I had beaten away trying vainly to cling to the contentment I had rediscovered, returned to torment me anew---and now this new horror as well.

Darkness quickened with each hour that passed. Necessity forced our pace to a near amble and my steps echoed next to Scar's. We were so close that I could follow in his lead by myriad clues not dependent on sight; the low exhale of his breath, the crackling of dry leaves beneath his feet. On occasion, a particularly sure step drew me even with, or slightly ahead of him, but always not so far that I could not stretch my hand out to touch him---if I wanted.

I did. My fingers reached out now and then, almost of their own accord to brush his arm or back as we walked, to reassure myself of his nearness. To remind myself that I did not wander alone. At these times he rumbled softly as if he knew I sought him not out of necessity, but for reasons all my own. Once this acknowledgment of my desire to be near him would have embarrassed me, but I was long past pretending that I felt no affection for this hunter. Occasionally he paused slightly, waiting for me to draw closer to him, then his hand would alight on my head or fingers burrow briefly into the thick fall of hair clasped at the nape of my neck. He had seemed to examine my face on the cliff, and wondered now what he would find were he to look now.

With each hour as well, the chance of rest receded, becoming as distant as the stars unseen above us. We must have already covered many miles since we had first left the camp, although I had no way of telling how many. I had known and expected that our march would continue through the night, and as tired as I was I had resigned myself to that fact, but I had not counted on the fact that my still weakened body simply wouldn't let me. I was slowly succumbing, not to a single day's exertion, but to a cumulation of exhaustion, pain and hunger----and the fact that the course of the past three days had barely yielded a full night's rest to me.

When finally even feeling in my feet began to abandon me in favor of spreading numbness, I realized I could no longer go on. Moreover, I no longer wanted to. No monster pursued us in the darkness, no mortal fear of a screeching, leaping nightmare motivated me to keep going, to push my body beyond the limits of what it could endure. If I did not press him for a stop Scar would keep pushing us, I knew, for much longer. I didn't know how much longer I could hold out. How best to broach the topic of rest occupied my thoughts for several minutes, then my feet decided the issue, and without warning even to me, simply stopped moving. Scar growled at once, proof it seemed that although his usual uncanny ability to navigate the darkness remained mysteriously impaired, his hearing certainly wasn't. When I didn't immediately move, he growled again, managing to sound both impatient and questioning. He came right up to me, his body a vague ripple in the gloom and I braced myself to butt heads with him.

"I'm tired. I need to rest a while," I said, stubbornly refusing to phrase it as the question that had almost sprung to my lips. I would be damned first before I'd let myself be reduced to _asking_ for rest.

He snarled unpleasantly, then fell silent, and I imagined that he was mulling the two options that I could see---pulling me along or letting me rest so that I would move under my own power. I wondered if there was even a third option—if I did truly collapse in exhaustion, would he carry me? I rather suspected he would; after all that we had been through together there would be no question of leaving me behind and the knowledge was strangely, a relief in more ways than one. As dependent on Scar as I was now, following blindly on this hunt of whose larger connotations I was not sure, it was a slight, beggarly comfort to count the few things of which I was.

While I was musing, Scar growled again, softly, and began walking away.

"Hey!" I called after him. Was he ignoring me? A barking growl to follow was my response, its trailing endnotes indicating that he had already moved on a little distance. From the sharpness of his tone I knew he had reached a decision of some sort so ignoring exhaustion I stumbled quickly after him, hopefully imagining that I had read acquiescence in that single growl. When several minutes passed by my loose reckoning of the time I could not measure, and still we walked, I grew restless. Just as I was thinking fretfully that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to swallow my pride after all, Scar grabbed my arm and began to lead me away to the left, away from what must have been the unknown path we were following, through a dense growth of vine entangled saplings. When he stopped after a few feet and tugged at the sling on my back, I was only too eager to comply.

Heaven was the release my body felt as I shed my gruesome burden somewhere on the ground, I didn't care where at that point as Scar guided me to sink down next to him, settled upright against the shadowed trunk of some tree. I groaned my greedy pleasure at the feeling of blood circulating in my legs again now that they had been relieved of the pressure of bearing me upright, and I massaged my calves in order to prolong the sensation. Scar's arm shot out and dropped across my shoulders, pulling me to him and cradling my head against his chest. A rough thumb rubbed against my wrist briefly, then he was still.

I was exhausted, but couldn't will my mind to rest as my body was doing. As much as I tried—and God how I was trying--- I couldn't shake the intruding knowledge that the day was at its close. Another day would soon begin. Another day of the hunt. And possibly so on and so on.... until the hunt was over. Then I would be faced with---with whatever its conclusion would bring. My stomach flipped queasily and I turned my head and pressed my face into Scar's chest. I could have broken down into tears if I let myself. A future with Scar was calling me, and the sad truth was I wasn't sure how to answer it anymore---especially after tonight. A hunter I was not and never could be; just a haunted, troubled human whose life was reshaping too quickly around her. Scar's hand stirred against my stomach where it lay, and an unhappy sigh escaped me.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because what seemed like only a few moments after that last confused thought, Scar was setting me carefully upright. My eyes, groggily opening in natural response to my body's change in position met muted light. Dawn was breaking. Its pale softness seeped dimly in between the gnarled trees around us. Through the occasional gap in the forest cover above us shafts of light broke free, and one angled down directly on the spot where we rested, in the circumference of an enormous tree as I realized when I looked up to squint into the invasive light. As pleasant as the mild warmth was it wouldn't last long. The sun would soon beat down mercilessly, warming the air unpleasantly and bringing on the oppressive sensation of being slowly baked.

I rolled away from Scar and covered my mouth over a small yawn. Blinking brought both clearer vision and unwanted memories rushing back the latter of which I pushed away hastily. When I stood up and looked down at myself I realized that I was covered in dirt and bits of leaves. I brushed my hands against my pants, then abandoned the effort almost immediately realizing that it was doing little good; I was dirty, unwashed and unkempt and there was no escaping that fact. I had also just remembered my despised but, for some reason I did not yet understand, precious burden which I had dropped heedlessly somewhere near our feet the night before. I found it partly hidden behind our tree where it had rolled and picked it up to heft it into place in the sling and on my back, inadvertently bringing it closer to my nose. I dropped it immediately, my stomach heaving in great convulsions; my body wanted to puke but I had nothing in my stomach to bring up, so for several seconds all I could do was wheeze my disgust amid choked gasps for air. The head's odor, the perpetual freshness of an animal that lived in water, was noticeably and more than a little unpleasantly, changed from what it had been the day before. It was ripening; the head entering the first stages of decomposition, and surely the intense heat was only hurrying the process along. I mentally gagged at the revolting image of eventually bearing its maggot-infested weight, and quite suddenly I was not so loath for the hunt to end.

Scar had stood up immediately ready to move on, and was silently waiting for me to be ready as well. Silence eventually gave way to a growl when I still lingered, reluctant to take up the odorous head, but after I grumblingly did and walked over to him, he reached towards me and gently cuffed me under the chin, growling softly. Appeased, I looked up at him affectionately, but only his mask looked back at me unfeelingly and I realized with a small start that, coming to think of it, he hadn't removed it since he had put it on---I hadn't seen his face since we had left the clearing.

I had a new reason to hate the hunt now.

We walked, to my surprise the landscape changing as we did; the trees shrinking so rapidly in size that the effect was disconcerting. We were coming out from underneath the dense tree cover, the cerulean sky visible once more. The trees were also thinning; becoming spindlier, not the towering giants they had been before, and the feeling that I was moving within the confines of a large, green fishbowl dissipated. The shorter the trees grew, the taller grew the grass, their razored blades hovering at a level near my knees, and in some places, my thighs. A raucous squawking overhead announced the presence of a large flock of parrots, and they took to flight as we passed below, wheeling away in a moving, fluttering mass of indigo and scarlet. My head turned to their squawking, and I followed the trembling boughs that marked their hasty path away from us with a slight smile on my lips. They were the most welcome sign of wildlife I had seen since I had arrived.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had not eaten, and I reflected miserably on the last energy bar that I had already eaten. The trail mix and energy bars I had brought with me were only intended to be supplemental; they provided only a brief burst of energy to keep the body going, but they had been the only sustenance I had had the previous day. Now I was feeling the bite of hunger sharply.

When the aroma of ripe fruit wafted to me I only sniffed tentatively not daring to get my hopes up----then unabashedly when the scent grew stronger and I became more certain of what my nose was telling me. Could I be lucky enough that we would come upon its source? Luck never seemed to favor me, but for once, amazingly, this time it did---several trees of medium height, laden heavily with rounded fruit in what looked like varying degrees of ripeness. I stopped below one overhanging branch, my hands reaching up before I was aware what they were doing, and plucked one of the greenish fruit. Common sense stopped me just in time. Its cheek was rosy with the promise of nourishment within but I turned it hesitantly between my fingers studying it; it looked like a mango but I wanted to be sure. Even hunger could not erase my caution about being poisoned. I put the fruit to my nose and inhaled deeply, this more careful scenting reassuring me that I was right. Without further hesitation I dug eager fingers in and stripped the peel off. The mango's flesh was the deep color of rich egg yolk—its fragrance right then simply indescribable. I buried my face in it greedily. Its juice filled my mouth and streaked down my cheeks---and I didn't care. Scar had stopped when I did and cocked his head at me now, grumbling discontentedly at this new delay.

"One minute," I mumbled around a full mouth. His response was a reproving growl and I looked at him crossly.

"I need to eat every day," I snapped. "Excuse the hell out of me!" I partly turned away from him, giving him my side, determined to enjoy my find without his cloud of disapproval hovering over me. He snarled nastily and suddenly having second thoughts about my petulance, I quickly finished and tossed the now desiccated seed and rind away. I reached eagerly for another one as I moved towards him and promptly began to bolt it down, casting the peel on either side of us as we walked on.

**xxx**

The morning began with this minor pleasure, but the rest of the day crawled by tediously, remarkable for its complete lack of incident. Boredom had been the last thing I had to worry about in the pyramid and caverns—but I was in danger of dying from it now. Time as it passed in the jungle had lost the meaning it had outside of it, and when I looked listlessly at my watch at one point, I realized that I was even beginning to lose interest in keeping track of it. I had no idea when the hunt would be over---had no say in the matter, and had no idea if Scar did either. For one of the few times in my life, the time of day no longer mattered, only nightfall worried me anyway. Scar and I had not long passed the grove of mango trees when the peak of a rocky cliff came into view some distance away, jaggedly split here and there by deep fissures, and a white, strangely swirling cloud hugging its face. A familiar, dull roaring told me that we were approaching another body of water and I grew apprehensive---I was fast learning to associate the Amazon's waterways with the anacondas. My apprehension eased somewhat and I permitted myself to feel a little pleasure as the trees shrank back as we got closer to the rocks, and I discerned that we were in fact coming up to a large waterfall.

We skirted its base. The swirling cloud I had observed turned out to be a fine hovering vapor of minuscule droplets thrown up by the water's churning---so violent that its brown murkiness was being spun into a creamy white froth. We were far enough from the turbulence that the water's rocking dissipated to only gently lap at the high bank of brown earth on which we stood. I raised my eyes up to find the water's source, and saw that before us several hundred feet above the ground, a broad river dashed itself against and over several large rocks, before tumbling with a roar over the cliff. Seeing this I frowned—if this waterfall drained from a large river, it wouldn't be wise to quickly assume that it was free of hidden dangers.

I eyed Scar warily, judging that it would be prudent to take my best clue of how our situation lay from him. He didn't seem to be taking any more interest in this spot than he did in any other—only stood on the bank, spear held upright in a relaxed grip looking around in his usual manner, so I hesitantly decided that the waterfall was not to be a hunting ground. Nevertheless I approached the water cautiously, my eyes skimming its surface for any hint of a monster lurking beneath it, only too aware that I was acting not unlike a skittish prey animal at a watering hole.

Warily, I plopped sling and self down on the bank and rocking forward on my knees, carefully reached down to sink my cupped hands into the water which flowed some inches below, filling them and bringing them up to splash my face. As warm as it was, the water was still comparatively cool against my overheated skin and I closed my eyes briefly, relishing the thought that some of the dust and weariness clinging to me must surely be washing away in the trickle running so pleasantly down my neck and top. A few drops lingered near my mouth and I stuck my tongue out and tasted them cautiously. Drinking from questionable river water was not my first choice, but all the water in my canteen was nearly gone and I had to refill soon. My purification tablets would sadly not make the water taste any better, but should make it safer to drink without a real risk of contracting some tropical illness. I pulled my pack off---

---then the prickling feeling that I was being watched made me look up. A few yards away, Scar had crouched without my noticing, arms folded across his knees, spear lying next to him in the grass. He seemed to be studying me intently, head cocked to one side. I smiled at him tentatively, and just a little bemusedly, not quite sure what to make of this sudden, focused interest in me and turned my attention back to digging out my canteen.

When after a few seconds, I stole another look at him and found his gaze apparently still fixed on me, my bemusement wavered.

"What?" I asked a little disconcerted.

He grunted but offered no other response, remaining as motionless as the sphinx and at the moment, just as inscrutable.

Turning away from him, I fished out the canteen, held it to my lips and swallowed the pitifully small amount of water that was still inside. When it was empty I reached down gingerly and lowered it into the water that flowed inches below me---

The taut snicker of metal flicking against itself was my first warning that something behind was amiss but before I could turn around something brushed against the back of my legs---hard--- and I lost my teetering balance, tumbling unceremoniously headfirst into the swirling water. My impact with it was the clearest sensation that I had, then everything from that point on seemed to occur at once. Disoriented by my forward tumble, I couldn't immediately tell which way was up and I kicked out my legs awkwardly. Tendrils of unseen plants below the water's surface trailed along my skin, then my head broke the surface and thankfully, my feet met solid ground. I stood, coughing, trying to blink the water out of my eyes, which were burning from my forced entry into the water. I could barely see, but I had no doubt what, or rather _who_ to blame for my predicament.

"You....." I racked my brain for an appropriate epithet "_prick_!" I finally howled, flinging loose my indignation to the skies and viciously punching the water that came to just below my chest for emphasis.

The prick crouched on the bank still, head tilted to one side, silhouette vibrating slightly with his laughter, and extended spear still in his clenched hand—he had used its blunt length to sweep me in.

"Very funny," I muttered in a tone that clearly communicated that it was anything but.

Oh, how I wanted to _kill _him....

I settled for the next best thing and momentarily indulged in the fantasy of tearing him apart with my bare hands, starting with that damned mask and definitely moving even further down....By this time I had seen enough dismemberings and eviscerations to fuel my imagination, and the images I summoned were satisfyingly bloody and gruesome. I interrupted these pleasant thoughts only to blow my nose noisily.

I shot my tormentor another glare from one eye, the other still closed against the white haze that hung over everything when I tried to peer out from it. It seemed I didn't have to worry about Scar losing his---really bizarre sometimes---sense of humor. Wherever it had gone to, it must not have been very far because it was apparently back and none the worse for its absence. One human against one predator--it really wasn't fair at all. I knew Scar had not meant to be unkind, only playful, although coming from anyone else—from any human-- it would have been. Of course it went without saying that I would have royally kicked the ass of any boyfriend who pulled such a prank on me. But as I could never forget, Scar was a predator---by their standards he had probably been very gentle with me. Abruptly I recalled the pain that usually resulted from being on the receiving end of one of Tank's friendly, hand-heavy back slaps and I cringed. Had I been another of Scar's race I could have probably expected a full body slam into the water by way of play. I shuddered, my mouth going dry at the hair-raising image, and suddenly felt incredibly pampered indeed.

Scar stood up from his crouched perch in the grass and walked to the bank. He stood on the edge of the bank for a few seconds seeming to contemplate me, his laughter fading, then emitted a clicking growl and extended a solid arm down to me---the same arm that had yielded his spear I couldn't help but notice indignantly. I eyed the offending limb, wondered if there was any hope of yanking him in myself, even considered ignoring it, but then deciding that refusal would not restore me to a dry state, I waded over to him. He leaned down and grabbing my forearm hauled me back up to the bank.

He didn't release his hold even after I stood next to him once more, and when he raised a hand to my face, to stroke my cheek I assumed, I uttered an obscenity---was he serious?----and swatted at it irritably. He was not deterred. Still grasping me by the wrist with one hand, he brought the other up to thread fingers through my hair gently, even curiously. His head cocked down to me, his attention focused on the locks running over his hand for some reason. Wonderingly, I brought my fingers up to touch my head and then knew that it was that had attracted his curiosity—my thorough dunking had plastered my hair to my scalp, it fell away to hang in slender, limp strings around my face. I knew from experience that left to dry on its own my hair would dry full and fluffy and I blew out a puff of exasperation at this new irritation, slight as it was.

Scar slowly curled the tips of his fingers about the sodden pieces he had separated from the others. I wanted to wring out the water from my clothes; I was soaked and dripping water where I stood, even over Scar's feet, but my own curiosity won out and with a creased forehead I waited to see what he would do next. This time I didn't demur when the back of his fingers brushed against my cheek and lightly traced the outer fold of my ear, then unexpectedly fell to my neck. I shivered as his finger drifted across my skin, stroking what I supposed was the bruise he had left there two days before although I could no longer feel its tenderness. From the depths of his throat a deep purr swelled, an unmistakably contented sound, and the last remnants of my irritation faded away. Scar's fascination....fascinated me. I tilted my head back to look up at him and his head adjusted slightly, turning to follow the movement of my face. I sensed that behind the mask that separated us, amber eyes were locked onto mine. Not for the first time, I wondered in awe what it _was_, what I had done or said---- that had so beguiled him in the first place. Long before I had learned to look at this predator without fear, to trust him as I did now, he had let me know in so many gestures of his greater affection for me. I of course knew what it was about him that attracted me.....

As if sensing the change in my mood, Scar pulled on my wrist, tugging me closer to him, purring steadily now. His finger lazily trailed a new, singeing path upwards, past my jawline and to my cheek, falling finally back down to my neck. My breathing slowed, deepened, audible in the small space between us that was rapidly shrinking. When the finger wandered further down to brush the skin of my collarbone and to trace the outline of the necklace that lay there, my knees weakened, my heart thudding as if it would jump out of my chest----and it felt _wonderful_. Scar's purring deepened; we both knew his mask precluded the touch of his skin against my own but his head lowered, bending closer to mine as if did not matter---

An abrupt, shrill beeping inches away from my ear shattered the calm.

I froze, my eyes widening in alarm. If blood could truly run cold, mine did at that moment. I recognized that sound---but it couldn't be! The device on Scar's forearm. I jerked away from Scar's touch and stared at it as it hovered near my face, in disbelieving horror. The last time I had heard its shrill warning I had been running for my life from a massive explosion that had sunk ice into ground and sealed a pyramid underground forever. I had not moved an inch since the sound brought back..... and yet my adrenaline was surging.

_Run! _every good sense I had left urged me insistently, _run!_ but I couldn't move---would not move without Scar. My head whipped back to him, horrified, fearing confirmation that the beeping was indeed what I thought.

Scar's reaction was wholly different and unexpected. He dropped his hand from me and snarled impatiently at the device, but made no attempt to remove it---to toss its incredibly destructive power away. He punched a few buttons on it and the beeping stopped. Bending swiftly, he retrieved his spear from the grass where he had let it fall, looked at me and inclined his head in the direction we had been heading before our impromptu stop. His impatience to be gone was unmistakable and I nodded my reluctant understanding.

Play time was over. The hunt beckoned once more

I picked up the head and slung it onto my back, and contented myself with squeezing the water out of my top as I walked.

At least I'd gotten a bath.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N**: So....I recently got around to figuring out how to reply to reviews (I'm a tad slow) but I'll probably continue to post replies here (I'm also lazy)

**Dragowolf**---You called it. It was absolutely an alarm. Kind of.

**AbiiThePrat**—I could never, ever forget this story. It's my first baby :-)

**Elle's Daisy**—Another boyfriend ass-kicker for the team! Yay!

**frnight**---I for one cannot find it in my cold, little heart to be sorry for Lex. She's got Scar!

**OceanFire9**---I bow before your dedication to your reviews. I hope to soon catch up with reviewing all the stories I've enjoyed on this site, I'm ashamed to note some by writers who have taken the trouble to review mine.

**Syvert'i**---You are welcome :-) More diversion ahead I trust.

**xxx**

Our pace was brisk. An unnamed element had electrified the air and prodded awake the need to keep moving as fast as possible. Playfulness vanished in an instant, Scar's demeanor once again tense. This change in mood had something to do with the beeping, I thought, huffing as I tried to keep up with him. What had it meant? For clearly it had communicated something of such importance that I now had to move my feet double time to keep up with Scar's longer strides. Judging by the pace he was pushing us now, the beeping might as well have said, _Hurry. Running out of time...._

I slowed a little, stunned by the truth I seemed to have stumbled upon in the midst of my musings. If this was true---and the queasiness in my gut was telling me that it was---even this bafflingly long hunt had a determinable end after all, and we were indeed running out of time---Scar had not yet made a kill, although not for a lack of trying. Almost a day had passed before we had seen the first signs of prey, and since then we had not found even the carcass of another. Unlike the black limbed aliens, we had to seek out this prey---it would not come to us. Along our jogging journey to the village I had counted the hunters more carefully and come to a count of twenty-two. Twenty-two hunters---but did the prey even number that many? I thought hard, trying to remember how many lairs had been marked on the map I had seen, and cursed myself again for not having paid closer attention when I had the chance. I just couldn't remember.

_Running out of time_....the words held a separate significance for me. They echoed hollowly in my brain and wouldn't shut up. The vague feelings of uneasiness I had experienced earlier surged forward again, even as I looked at Scar's back ahead of me and knew a quiet joy that he was there.

When the ground angled up some time later and we moved up hill, I really had to push myself to keep up with Scar. It was late afternoon when we came to a broad, fast-flowing river, the third of such that we had quickly passed by after they proved barren of prey. By this time I was in a full-out sweat—my breathing labored and strained as I struggled to push oxygen into my body. We had stopped only a couple of times in that period, just long enough for Scar to take a look around, occasionally stopping to examine the ground and apparently reassure himself that we were going the right way. I would not demand another rest---and did not even feel I could. I wanted to collapse and almost did when Scar halted us long enough that the blood that had been pounding so heavily to fuel my exertion caught up with my now immobile body making my head swim dizzily.

Scar studied the rocks surrounding this new river, then examined the banks carefully. I could see nothing interesting about either, and no more sign of anaconda than there had been by the rivers we had left behind but he pointed to me and the ground. I looked at him dubiously. After the near breakneck pace he had been pushing us for the last few hours---we were stopping? Just like that? Really? When he moved his spear from his hand to his back, and crouched to the ground, his back against a large rock that straddled the line between bank and river, I realized that what was indeed what he wanted to do. It still made no sense to me but I wasn't about to complain.

I walked away, towards the little shade to be found among the trees that lined the banks and carefully making sure that Scar was within my line of sight, settled myself to the ground and took pack and sling off my back. I drew my knees up and rested my head atop them, gazing wearily at the scrub below my feet. I wouldn't have thought I could sleep with the buzz of uncertainty in my head, but amid exhaustion and the comparatively pleasant warmth under the trees I felt my head jerking forward as I began to nod off. Collecting myself, I sat upright at once and looked across at Scar, but he crouched by the river still—alert, and I knew that he would not sleep. He was studying the water and seeing this my wariness inched up again and I studied him carefully in turn. If I didn't know any better I would think that he was......waiting, strangely enough, but his spear remained at his back and he did not seem tense---merely watchful. I mulled the puzzle over for a while then weariness decided the matter, and I closed my eyes again, and let my head fall backwards to rest against the tree....

A familiar tug on my hair roused me from my doze, and my eyes sprang open to see Scar already straightening up from over me and walking back to the bank. Some time must have passed, because the gray line of shadow that marked the sun's progress overhead had crept closer towards the trees. Tucking my legs under me, I came to my feet. I looked across at Scar and grabbed my pack as I rose, then forgot all about the head still on the ground when the river's far side swayed into view. I sucked in a ragged breath that almost hurt, for I had quickly divined the reason we had stopped at that particular river---why we had stopped at all.

I watched in morbid fascination as a rustling of green and brown on the opposite side of the river revealed itself as the huge head of an anaconda emerging from a tangle of brush that grew beneath the lip of the overhanging bank. When its head was fully exposed the anaconda grew still, for a few moments, its only sign of movement the forked tongue flicking in and out. Then its black eyes flashed the light of the sun as it undulated its torso forward, crushing grass and pushing aside brush and sapling indiscriminately, before slipping into the river with barely a ripple to betray its devastating presence.

I had slept soundly feet from the lair of one of the monster snakes.

I had no more time to think about this knee-weakening fact because Scar had already begun to stride determinedly down to the river. It seemed that the snake's appearance was what he had been waiting for. Without missing a beat, he walked into the water to meet the anaconda which had vanished completely under it. I could only assume that he had woken me up so that I wouldn't miss the show. In obedient compliance I watched apprehensively as the waters closed over his head and he disappeared from view. Minutes ticked by and nothing happened. Just as I was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong, the water close to the bank began to stir and roil. Scar emerged from the river, water streaming away from his torso which was almost lost from view among the coils of the snake's upper body which encircled his body. He held its giant head and upper torso away from his own in a firm grip to prevent the anaconda from completing its winding around his body. Several feet of the anaconda's length dragged in the water and on the ground behind him**, **the very tip of its tail curling and whipping about in what looked like righteous fury. I wondered bemusedly how he could even walk.

When he had come up a few feet onto the bank, Scar dropped swiftly to one knee, slamming the anaconda's head powerfully into the ground. The resulting thud was so sickeningly loud I wondered if he had killed it outright, but no such luck. If anything, the huge snake only seemed to have been stirred into further agitation. It writhed powerfully, twisting its body in great heaves of its coils, and Scar lost his grip and was pitched sideways into the ground. Not releasing its own grip around his body, the snake drew itself up to most of its great height above him, and turning its head back to the body it still encased, struck down with a swift ferocity that was intended to kill---

--instead its fangs struck Scar's mask and glanced off harmlessly. The anaconda lunged down yet a second time with the same effect, and apparently realizing that it could not find purchase on this strange animal's head, abandoned this tactic in favor of an old favorite—a torturous, crushing, winding of its body.

Scar's arm freed itself from the snake's crushing hold, and reached out to grab the snake again around the part of its body that equated to a neck. The span of his large palm, outstretched as it was from finger to thumb didn't encircle even half of the girth of the flesh that he held, but he was holding on tightly, and there was no mistaking the force he was applying. His fingers dug in, piercing and burying themselves in the snake's flesh almost up to the joints. The anaconda began to uncoil from around him in a hurry, and whipped around violently, all of its concentration now centered on freeing its captured head. Most of its length now lying idle, the anaconda found a new weapon and lashed its curving coils out, ramming into Scar and sending him flying off his feet and several feet away into the dirt.

Blood oozed from several dark spots on the anaconda's neck---punctures from the talons that had sunk into its flesh, but it lost no time in whipping its body around to lunge for him again. Lifting himself partly from the ground where he still lay, Scar grasped at his side for his shuriken, extended its blades and with deceptively careless ease tossed it at the gigantic body rising and plummeting down towards him. Wickedly curved blades sang as the circular metal disk flew the air, slicing off a chunk of the snake's upper body and almost comically halting its lunge for him. Scar arched his back and twisted up and off the ground easily, coming to land on his feet and he uttered a growl of satisfaction as he watched the shuriken's course. He was enjoying himself I realized with a start; this pitting of talon against fang. His predatory prowess against the anaconda's own.

Having struck its target, his shuriken curved around, coming back to Scar's outstretched fingers. As he reached up to close his fingers around it again the injured anaconda struck out again, this time sinking its fangs into his arm and beginning to twist him around in its deadly coiling----

----the shuriken buried itself in Scar's shoulder.

He roared, a sound of pain and anger, and I screamed, shock distorting my voice hideously. I watched helplessly as the anaconda's coiling wound on, taking him from view. I couldn't believe that I was about to watch him be crushed before my eyes, but for some reason I couldn't comprehend he was taking the punishment without trying to defend himself.

I moaned, and inched forward unconsciously. _I had to do something_! But I couldn't---could I?

My movement attracted the snake's attention and its large head whipped around to me. It was still agitated; its tongue flicked in and out so rapidly my wide-opened eyes registered it only as a pink blur. Sickened, I realized what I had done. In my anxiety I had edged closer to to the battle---too close as it turned out. As coiled as most of the anaconda's body was around Scar, I was still within easy reach of its upper body; all it had to do was strike out to sink its fangs into me and snuff out this second irritating life, and that was exactly what I could see it was about to do---

Pure fear. That was the acrid taste in my mouth. I wondered desperately what the damned ritual called for in a situation like this. The anaconda was clearly to be Scar's kill alone, but I didn't think I would be expected to stand there and be attacked without at least fighting back. When the snake's head began to curl back from me, when it began to rise from its greenish black belly to tower over me, as it had Scar, I fumbled quickly behind me for my spear. I should have had it out anyway, I told myself furiously. Scar roared something, but I had no time to look at him. The tension in the snake's body heightened for the strike. Sheer desperation drove me to act without thinking, and without the hesitation of my own kill, I lifted my spear up in my trembling hands and plunged it as hard as I could into the underside now so close to me.

I remembered to let go just in time.

It was a direct hit, and the anaconda reared back, suddenly having found good reason to change its mind about attacking me. Then its body jerked violently off the ground; Scar had freed his right arm by slashing a path through its flesh with extended wrist blades. Speared, sliced, slashed---nearly torn in half---the anaconda finally relented; uncoiling the last of its length from Scar and beginning a lumbering, slithering retreat back to the river.

Scar followed, slicing at the anaconda again before it could fully immerse itself in the river, and opening up a long, vicious looking gash in its body from which blood poured. The anaconda writhed in pain, then madly, coiled back and wound around him in one final hold, its head pointing down toward his for one final strike at this predator that had dared to bring it down. Scar reacted instantaneously and with an exquisite flick of his wrist that I marveled to see, bore his arm up and slashed with incredible force up at the snake's head from just below it.

The snake writhed back and tumbled the last few feet down the bank into the river, and was gone from sight. Scar, still entangled in the last of its coils went with it.

I had already taken a few anxious steps towards the water, when a faintly whistling sound above gave me just enough warning to leap back before the anaconda's severed head fell onto the ground beside me.

**xxx**

I remained rooted in shock on the ground where I had thrown myself, then recovering my senses, pulled myself to my knees and half ran, half-crawled to the water's edge, where I strained my eyes to spot the entangled pair in the murky water. At first, I saw nothing before me, nor did my searching eyes immediately pick up any clues among the pieces of tree trunks and debris drifting by. Then I spotted a massively slumped form disappearing downstream that could only be the anaconda's carcass, and to my relief, Scar's head and upper body floating near it. I sprinted along the river's bank towards him, then broke into a full out run, realizing that the waters were moving faster than I had thought and that I was losing sight of him.

_Running again_, I couldn't help thinking bitterly, _always running_, with this fear of being left alone and of vulnerable curled inside me.

I ran fast and hard, struggling to keep the shadowy form that was the anaconda in view, and finally came to a bend in the river that brought me within several feet of it. Scar was injured, but I doubted he was in serious trouble; I had seen him take much worse and remain standing, and his earlier display left me in no doubt that he was no slouch around water. But for some reason he was remaining with the anaconda's carcass now, evincing no immediate intention of leaving it. His head was bent to it, and I watched as he ran his hands along the length of that was visible above the water, then moved them underwater. I wondered in amazement what he was doing, then a thought occurred to me and I exploded into incredulous obscenities. Was this about a _trophy_?

My eyes tracked his rapidly drifting movement downstream, infuriated, then my attention wandered past him, to what lay ahead on the river's course, and was arrested immediately.

A white, strangely swirling cloud hovering in the horizon.

I turned my worried gaze back to Scar, all my fury fleeing in an instant.

"_Scar_!" I screamed, cupping my hands around my mouth.

I couldn't tell if he heard me. He raised an arm aloft, triumphantly, and the sun glinted off something he held in his hand. The spray of water dashing against rocks shot over him, then seconds later prey and hunter were sucked into the churning rapids and down into whatever chasm lay below. For a while I only stood there, inert, unwilling to believe what I had just seen. Then I waited; my eyes trained one minute on the waters downstream, expecting to see Scar to emerge from them, then moving in the next to the bank on which I stood, hoping to hear his familiar growl as he came to me. As time ticked by with no sign of Scar, puzzlement turned into worry, and worry mounted with each passing minute.

Finally, more confused than ever I trudged back upstream, and a tense, frightening walk it was, and sank down next to the anaconda's head, near those unseeing eyes, and waited nervously, once more continuing my lonely and unwilling vigil.

"Where _are_ you, Scar," I muttered, my eyes scanning the river as far as I could see it. My voice was angry but in truth I was worried sick. For Scar, gone--somewhere, wounded I knew---and for myself, alone, and now vulnerable in the jungle. My spear was still buried in the underside of the anaconda's belly, itself no doubt now lost somewhere at the bottom of the water that raged, tauntingly, just a few feet before me. My vulnerability weighed heavily on my shoulders and I felt the loss of my spear keenly, but it was as nothing compared to the greater loss I was suffering.

A deep hurt imbedded itself in my chest and would not go away, no matter how much I tried to assure myself that I was worrying over nothing. Scar was fine, I told myself over and over again. He had survived the birthing of a monstrosity from his chest, shots in the back and impalement on the hard spiny tails of alien devils. He was fine.

But he hadn't returned to me yet, and that uncushioned fact turned me cold.

I watched the river flow on, dragging every manner of debris with it. Every now and then a particularly strident ripple or splash in or near the water made me sit up straight and look around warily. The sun's progress across the sky, and its transformation from blazing yellow to cooler vermillion and russet alerted me that the afternoon was winding on, bringing with it the onset of evening, and several worried glances at my watch confirmed this. Time suddenly had meaning for me again.

I was alone in the jungle----and I didn't know what the hell to do about it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Syver'ti**---Thanks for pointing that out. Let's see, the bugs were "bugging" the hell out of Lex in an earlier chapter but I might write in another mention in either a previous/upcoming chapter. Scar's youth showed there didn't it? My perspective there was that he was bored & frustrated by the lack of action and wanted to toy with the anaconda a bit before dispatching it. He did change his mind pretty quickly once the snake set its sights on Lex as well. Not that he doubted she could take care of herself---he has a lot of confidence in her! Only that he unnecessarily put her in danger of being harmed by _his_ kill. A matter of predator hunt courtesy methinks.

**Dragonfiz**--Whoa! Egads! o_O....and other appropriate interjections! Thanks for taking the time to review them all, hope you keep enjoying! :-)

**Dragowolf**---Here ya go...new chapter

**frnight**---yes, first fanfic. Pretty much the first creative _anything _I've attempted since college.

**OceanFire9**---I've never heard of that song---which honestly doesn't mean a whole lot. I'm quite oblivious to a lot. I'll have to google the lyrics.

**Elle's Daisy**---Lex on her lonesome is......magic. It must happen. Always.

**Princess Akaichou**---Thanks and hi! That's all :-)

**AbiiThePrat**---Lol! I had to go back to the beginning of the chapter to see what you were talking about, because honestly for a minute I had no idea. But when Scar runs he still looks menacing. Because he's Scar. And a freaking predator.

**xxx**

As evening waned much as the afternoon had, offering no more clue about what was going on than I had had before, panic began to rise. I strove against the primitive instinct to surrender to it, to let it consume me, and forced myself to think practically. Recollection of where I was--near a river and the lair of at least one giant anaconda--brought the realization that it was probably not a good idea to remain there. It would be dark soon; predatory animals would undoubtedly come to the water to drink and hunt at dusk. Greater safety lay for me in the forest, as much as I dreaded returning to its suffocating darkness. I knew not what predators lurked among the trees, but surely they could be no more dreadful than the ones that lurked in the water....

There was the anaconda's head to think about as well. I had to make sure it was safe. Both of them. For some reason that I didn't understand they were important. I had to stash them somewhere where they wouldn't attract scavenging animals. To them, or to me. Without Scar, I couldn't afford the luxury of complacency. After some contemplation I decided that my only option was to do what I recalled predators sometimes did to protect their kill from others---I had to dig a hole and bury them. I had only my knife to do so. Slinging the head of the anaconda I had killed onto my back, and leaving the other untouched where it had fallen, I made my way cautiously back into the forest, stopping now and then to look back at the light that steadily receded the further I moved into the trees.

When I found a likely spot in the middle of a small, almost protective circle of trees, I dropped to all fours and began to dig with my knife, ignoring the dull ache in my arm and side that the wrenching movement was fanning alive. The ground was tougher than I had expected; time and again the knife's point struck something hard, a large root or rock---once a bone, and these I had to stop and fling out of the way. Once I got below the soil's hardened layer the dirt was softer, composed of fine particles and compressed bits of forest matter. Thinking now to save the knife, the only weapon I had left, I cast it aside and scrabbled in the dirt with my hands like a persistent dog, desperate to finish before dark found me and closed me off from the seeing world. When the hole was finally large and deep enough, I dropped the head in and leaving it uncovered walked quickly back through the trees and to the bank for the other. I fairly ran back to the hole in a race to beat the now dying light. The two heads wedged in as firmly as I could manage, I pushed the mound of dirt I had uncovered back over the hole and stood up to stamp it in.

At a loss for what to do next, I stooped near the hole again, and looked around nervously. Slowly, reluctantly, I pushed myself, inching across the ground, coming into a crouch against one of the trees. I watched silently as the darkness began to descend around me like a heavy, choking presence. When the thought of staving it off by building a fire occurred to me I hesitated. Getting firewood wasn't a problem; it lay around me within easy hand's reach and in more quantities than I needed. But I didn't know if a fire would draw attention of the sort I was trying to avoid. I worried my lip, thinking it over, then made up my mind; bad idea or not----I thought I would go crazy if I had to sit blind in the darkness, listening to the sounds of creatures skulking around me.

It took only minutes to gather wood enough to build a fire and keep it replenished for several hours. I made a pile of dried bark and small twigs, then taking careful aim with my flare gun, fired into its center. It took two tries, but I soon had a small flame going. I fed it bits of leaves and bark, and when it grew larger threw on larger branches until it blazed brightly. Finally, I settled in to face whatever the night would bring; I had prepared myself to meet it as best as I could. I crouched feet away from the fire, hugging my knees together, trying to forget the dark jungle around me. Each wail and screeching cry made me shrink involuntarily, and the occasional howl bolted me upright.

Physically I was burning up, from the stuffy night and the fire's unneeded warmth, but inside I was chilled. I rubbed my arms hastily as if doing so could ward off the wintry fear that settled upon me and threatened to freeze me fast in its icy grip. For now that I had nothing but time on my hands, I had no choice but to admit entrance to the fears and uncertainty that I had been beating back for the last two days. Thus far events, Scar, had conspired to keep my mind from turning to them and I had permitted it, only too willing to put off the inevitable.

The first lonely tear manifested itself as a searing heat coursing down my cheek.

I touched my finger to it wonderingly. When my body began to shake with a force that jerked me, I knew it was pent up emotion threatening to break loose. It had been a long time coming, and I had done myself no favors by keeping it at bay. I had made my decision to follow Scar three days before amidst the flush of our reunion and the pleasure of being held to him again. It was a decision I could not---and did not-- regret, but I had failed to steel myself for its consequences---and I was suffering for that failure now. I had given up everything; all that remained of my shattered life for this promise of a new one, but I couldn't shake the feeling that even that wasn't enough. This hunt was pressing my physical stamina to the utmost. Too little food, water and rest were all taking their toll on me. Even these last few hours of forced solitude had tortured, dredging up old memories of mortal fear, leaving me feeling almost as vulnerable as I had ever been. How _naive_—how utterly naive I had been to think that I could survive among Scar's race, and lead the hard life they led. I wanted so desperately to believe that this future I imagined was possible, but I couldn't abandon the sense of disbelief that gnawed pitilessly at me.

Alone now for nearly the first time since Scar had returned for me, I no longer had excuse or need to present a brave front----to pretend that everything was fine when so much was patently wrong. Too long I had been teetering on the verge of nervous collapse, and finally I allowed it.

I broke down and wept.

I wrapped my arms around my body, folding into myself as best as I could and sobbed out my pain, confusion and despair. My tears were for everything. I cried for the ghosts of my past and the new ones I had created. I cried for myself, for Scar and even harder for the uncertain future. When a fit of trembling jerked my body violently and my sobs threatened to rise into hysteria, I jammed my fist into my mouth and loosened my screams around it. I'd had good cries before, but this was just a godawful, miserable cry. I bent my head between my knees, squeezing my eyes shut and letting my tears fall to the ground. When I had no more tears left, I cried without them---and it hurt. Finally, when I had nothing at all left to express the grief that still in my chest, I simply stopped, hiccuping a little, my hands wet and eyes sore from knuckling away tears, feeling worse than ever.

A muffled beeping next to me drew my attention to my backpack. Wondering, unable to place the sound, I dug through it hastily, finally pulling out my cell phone from one of the inner pockets. I'd forgotten all about it since I had shoved it in there three days before---how long ago that seemed now---but it would have been useless to me even had I remembered. There was probably no such thing as a signal for hundreds of miles. The phone beeped again in my hand, ominously, the red icon blinking through its small face warning of a dying battery. So I thought desolately, even this last link to civilization was lost to me. I wiped away the last blurred remnants of tears then sank my forehead into my palms wearily. After a moment I raised my head and looked into the crackling fire, wistfully thinking how easy it would be to pretend that it was alive, and that I was after all, not truly alone. As if in answer the fire sent up a low hiss of air as it burned though a piece of young wood. Ceaseless worrying of the last few hours had done nothing but magnify exhaustion and the stiff pain that lingered in my side and eventually I lifted my head and scooted back to the tree, stretching my legs out and making sure that my precious knife lay within easy reach. I don't know how long I lay there; I was only aware that my head was throbbing and I wanted nothing more than for the ache pounding in my skull to ease. My lids fluttered down, sleep tugging, tempting me with the promise of forgetfulness and healing.

I forced my eyes open in despair. No, I couldn't sleep! Not here---not now!

I stood hastily and stretched, rolling my body downwards to touch my toes, then stretching my arms one after the other across my chest, shaking my legs vigorously in order to awaken myself. I sat down again and knew several moments of alertness before, despite my best efforts, my eyes began to close again. I fought against it for as long as I could until I just couldn't fight anymore. Although I had rested, briefly, the night before, it had been only a stopgap, a temporary substitute for what I needed. What I needed was sleep. I _needed _it. As it was I was running on near empty. And because I needed sleep, I wanted to believe it was the right thing to do. Much better to take a short nap now while I still had some semblance of awareness, I reasoned desperately, rather than try to fight it off and later succumb to a deep sleep. Much better. I closed my eyes---only for a few minutes I promised myself.......

I dreamed.

But at first I did not know it.

_**-x- **_

_Smoke......_

The dusky scent of cigarettes and something else more illicit.

A hand up-stretched waved me over. I walked towards the slight movement which crested over the crowd like a living wave.

Tinkling glass and laughter trailed me.

A woman with softly spiked hair leaned forward and rapped impatient knuckles on the bar. Her eyes met mine as I passed and she nodded.

_Brown eyes_, I noted, dazedly. I frowned, why was it so difficult to think? _A brown-eyed blonde_....

Vision wavered, and when it steadied Renee laughed before me, her mouth curving into a cat's smile. Unexplained tension melted away as I returned her smile. Her fingers tapped the table excitedly as she searched for the words I knew she was dying to tell me.

A hand shot out from the shadows and seized mine.

Renee screamed, a silent sound that pierced. Her drink fell from hand to ground and shattered. The pieces spun around and around, reflecting an unseen light.

I looked down at the hand that held me captive.

Skin that was both dark and pale, large fingers that ended in curved claws.

Bodies pushed past mine. Fleeing. Panicked.

As I watched, the hand stirred, pressing into my skin with a force that would have been painful if I could feel.

Then it burned, the slow, molten red of some great fire.

I knew I should scream, but I wasn't afraid.

The hand enflamed my skin, and the heat spread further.

My eyes moved into the shadows, searching eagerly....

_**-x-**_

I was unbearably warm. Sweat trickled down my temples. Ice gritted under my feet with each step.

I was on a hill, looking down at the world. The sky, a hard sphere suspended over the frozen black ice.

A dog, its coat a gleaming obsidian, raged at the end of the chain to which it was tethered. Its saliva flew in a wide spray as it lunged for the dark moon but it paid me no mind as I passed.

Someone unseen thrust something into my hands--- a long, silver spear barbed at both ends.

I ran. Ahead, behind, beside me, others pounded. They were dark shadows flitting by me.

We streamed down the hill, long lines of warriors, leaping, running as one.

The dog bayed, its deep cry caressing the air----unexpectedly soft and tender.

The world plunged into darkness, then a gray light separated itself and I saw.

Bodies carpeting the ice. Darkness upon darkness.

I was alone.

_**-x-**_

Ice softened and broke away.

The soft heads of flowers trailed against my fingertips. I opened my eyes. Crimson, yellow, pink, orange....

They lifted from their stems and flew away. The flutter of their petals a low hum that sang summer's song.

I stood in the golden field and watched them light away, saddened by the loss of beauty. The green stems they had abandoned crushed themselves down as if something invisible moved through, and I shut my eyes so that I would not have to see.

When I opened them again, a man stood with me, observing the flowers' fluttering path away from us.

He turned around and smiled, his teeth perfect pearls in the sun.

"Beautiful," the man said. But he was looking at me.

He sparked a memory that I struggled to find. Why _was_ it so difficult to think?

The shiver of a sliver of memory......then an engulfing torrent.

"Torry," I whispered in shock.

The man nodded.

_**-x-**_

A jump in the walls of light around me, like a slide under microscope making way for the next.

Pale gold gave way to lush, sultry bursts of color.

Torry reached out and swirled a finger into green. It came away in moist slickness that dripped away.

"I'm dreaming," I said watching him and finally understanding. "This isn't real."

_Dreaming_....

The feeling of _not right_ niggled at me but I pushed it away. I was trying to unravel a ball whose string I held between my fingers. If I moved too quickly I might lose it. I didn't want to lose it....

"I'm real," Torry said mildly. "But you're not."

I frowned. "What does that even mean?" I demanded.

Torry smiled. "You're not yourself anymore. _What kind of person are you_?........"

Light.

A waterfall framed over light. The waterfall Scar and I had found. Its beauty had been earthy and undeniably corporeal. This dream waterfall I had etched with the delicate, curlicue strokes of a Chinese engraving.

I couldn't enjoy it. Torry had followed me here.

"Look at all that you've done. What you're doing now.....Is that really you? I mean---- look at what you did to him," Torry added casually, thumbing back behind us.

I turned and my eyes widened in shock.

Reed. His body whole as it had not been in death. Strung up by his feet from nothing above......Eyes empty and unseeing as the anaconda's.

Reed's lips parted and he grinned at me, his smile a ghastly red slash across his face. Horrifyingly one eye winked, then his lips moved, mouthing silent obscenities at me.

I was nauseated....and furious. If Torry, no, my own mind, was trying to make me feel guilty, I wasn't having it.

"I'm not shedding any tears for _him_," I spat, remembering how Reed had tormented me, threatened me. How he had _hurt_ me. "He tried to kill me!"

Reed fell to the ground, spinning like a speck of dust. I strained to hear the impact of his body but he had disappeared as if he had never been.

"Traitor," Torry intoned behind me. I turned around and looked at him aghast. "Traitor," he repeated solemnly.

His hands clenched, fingers curled into palms like talons, and he raked them down his face. Long gashes of flesh separated from bone and curled down in thin, mutilated strips....

"No," I whispered horrified.

Blood gushed from the open wounds of his face in pale, white rivers.

"Stop! _Stop!_" I shrieked when his hands continued to tear at his face. "Oh God_,_ _stop!_" I screamed, beside myself. Dream had become real to me. The truth only what I perceived.

The river of blood flowed to my feet and I backed away. It spread....formed...and then----breathed.

People. Men, children---women rocking their babies and gazing at me with accusing eyes.

I knew my crime.

"I'm not!" I protested. "I'm _not, _I'm not_....._" I moaned helplessly, hot tears rolling down my cheeks.

They circled, pressing in on me with slow, deliberate steps. I shouted my protest now, willing them to understand and believe me. "I did it to protect you! _I protected you_!" I screamed.

The circle tightened, shutting out the light and heralding darkness again.

Desperate, terrified of darkness, I struck out at a girl who had come too close. My hands sank into her but her eyes bore into mine, still accusing. Blood gushed, blooming crimson against her white shift.

Blood everywhere I looked.

Spilling over my hands and staining them.

_**-x-**_

Time advanced and retreated. The shadows swirled.

Snow fell, heavy, in such quantities I had never seen before. I curled into a ball in its softness. I would die in it but dldn't care.

The snow continued to fall.

I remained broken, empty. A void inside me clamored to be filled---in vain.

_Alexa, _a voice whispered, pulling me back from oblivion. In that voice an echo sounded from long ago....

My daze lifted. Focus tightened with crystal clarity. As different as white from black. As if I had been swimming through a narrow stream and had finally come free into the open sea.

I stood and raised my hand to shield my eyes against the blinding snow. I was restless, suddenly expectant----and I didn't know why

Light itself moved towards me. Light I knew.

Hot tears rose in my eyes as she came near, and I let them drip down my cheeks, unashamed.

Light held a hand out to me silently, face wreathed in a smile that made my heart catch.

And even though I knew she was not real-- that I would only be unspeakably disappointed when I awoke, I went to her, burying my head in the crook of her neck, and began to weep as helplessly as if I was again a small child in need of comfort.

"_Mom_....." I sobbed.

**-x-**

Soft fingers stroked my hair gently and I blessed and cursed my mind for doing this to me. For making touch so real.

I could have stayed like that forever---- but I remembered.

"No," I whispered in anguish.

I dropped my arms and turned away, ashamed. "Everything's changed. _I've_ changed. So much....in ways I can't even explain."

"I know. Because he's not human," my mother and light breathed.

I stared. "How did you know.....wait. Of course," I said catching myself. "I'm dreaming. You know what I know."

_Dreaming_....light wavered slightly at the reminder.

"I'm giving up my life. Everyone....everything I knew...._everything. _Am I---am I doing the right thing?" I asked numbly.

"The right thing is what's right for you. Only you can decide what that is," light murmured.

I shook my head, "It's not that simple...." I said, my voice trailing off.

Light was suddenly all mother. "Why not? Doesn't he treat you well?" she asked disapprovingly.

"Yes," I said immediately, knowing without hesitation that it was true. I shook my head frantically, for a moment half-crying again, half-laughing. "But it's not enough......you don't know....it's.....it's...." Unable to continue, I burst miserably into a fresh round of tears.

Light, mother, drew away from me, and held my hands in hers between us, fingers folding around mine. Her eyes looked into mine, infinitely sad.

"I know it's not enough," she said, shrugging. "It never is." Releasing one of my hands, she lifted her own to wipe away a tear still trickling down my cheek and added, "But it's the best place to start."

She turned my face to hers, holding it before her gaze.

"Do you want to be with him?" she asked plainly.

"Yes," I whispered wretchedly.

She smiled. "Name your fear as you name your heart's wish. The one will triumph as the other falls. You've always known that. It's why you _are_....why you've done all that you have..."

I puzzled over this. "It's not going to be easy," I said, finally giving up.

"Love never promises to be easy," light murmured.

I stilled.

_Love?_

"I never sai---" I began before my mother---unmistakably my mother---pressed a finger to my lips, shushing me mid-sentence.

"Sweetheart, wake up," she whispered, and craned her head around to peer back at something I couldn't see, her forehead creased into a frown. "Something's wrong. _Wake up_......."

Light faded, but darkness kept its distance. I put my fingers to my lips where touch still lingered.

A sound behind me. I turned. A figure crouched in the snow, bristling at me.

It was the boy I had bumped into outside the anaconda's hut. The boy who had awakened a demon in my breast.

Dark head bent to the white snow, his breath rose slowly like smoke signaling a new made fire. Barely more than his eyes showed, and these glowed hot white in fierce vehemence.

"What---" I just had time to say, before his lips writhed back in a snarl and he leapt for my throat.

**xxx**

I jerked awake, heart beating furiously and fingers twitching at my throat to protect it. My mingled relief and disappointment at finding myself before the fire didn't last very long. Something was wrong. The fire was partially scattered before me. I must have kicked it while I slept but that wasn't it---

A harsh, raspy breathing from beyond a grove of trees beyond the light thrown by the fire.

I swung my head towards it at once and froze, holding my breath, straining to hear....._anything_. I was tensed almost unbearably, but nothing happened for a few moments. Then across from me among the dark trees, gold eyes glistened not far above the ground, betraying the presence of another.

I was no longer alone.

"Oh _no...._" I whispered in dread, realizing that one of my worst fears coming true. I waited to come face to face with the unseen creature, chest rising and falling quickly with each anxious breath. My only fleeting comfort that the menacing presence was evidently neither alien nor predator observing me for whatever ominous reasons.

Maybe I wouldn't die after all.

The eyes winked out of sight then back in as if their owner had blinked. A stirring of leaves, soft footfalls that made me cringe---then a large cat padded out from among the trees, halting not ten yards from me. Gold shot through its dappled coat when it crouched, eyes fixed on me. It licked its lips as it stared hungrily, but it didn't blink again.

Frozen on the ground, pinned there by the eyes that had not left mine, I stared back at it dumbly.

_Could I be killed by something so beautiful?_ I wondered crazily.

The cat snarled, exposing long, yellowed incisors and rousing me from my reverie. Its head lowered to the ground, shoulder blades flowing upwards and hunching together over powerful muscles---it was preparing to pounce. I didn't want to die. _I didn't want to die_! Forgetting my knife beside me, and without thinking, I grabbed the first thing I could see----one of the burning branches strewn in front of me--- and leaning forward shoved it full into the cat's face.

Surprised by my unexpected attack, the cat tried to twist away and lost its footing. It regained it almost immediately and slunk a few yards away to sit down on its haunches, shaking its head and swiping at its singed muzzle with a paw. It raised its head and emitted a baleful snarl at me that distorted its face, wrinkling its nose and the bridge of its muzzle. I cast my eyes on the ground for my knife, seized it with trembling hand and stood quickly. The cat came to all four feet as well but to my frustration only paced back and forth, eyes fastened on me, beyond the short range that my knife permitted me. I didn't want it to get closer---but even its attack would be more bearable than this dragged out mockery of me.

As if reading my thoughts the cat hissed.

"Come get me then," I said, gritting my teeth, despairing of anything other than a fight for my life.

The cat's golden eyes regarded me for a few moments. It snarled again, silently, no sound passing the gaping mouth down which I gazed, horrified. Then it did the last thing I expected it to do.

It turned its back on me---and slunk back into the night from which it had come, black-tipped tail waving restlessly. My eyes followed its retreating hindquarters, watching it go, amazed, but it was several minutes before I would let myself believe that the cat was truly gone. I reached out shakily for the trunk of the nearest tree and laid my head on my arm, shocked.

The voice from my dream had saved me.

The cat's approach had been so bold, for one wild moment I even wondered if it had been following Scar and I all this time, just waiting for the right moment to attack. From what little I knew of big cats, they usually rarely attacked humans unless they were provoked or desperate for food. I shook my head and told myself not to be so paranoid. The beast, likely a jaguar or leopard, must have been drawn to the fire that I had built, and had simply thought to take an easy meal when it saw me sleeping there. I wasn't its real prey, otherwise it wouldn't have given up so easily.

I shook my head again, incredulous, simply unable to believe everything that had happened in the span of mere minutes. I was shaking, badly, but I wasn't tempted to cry again---I probably couldn't even if I wanted to. After a few minutes my racing heartbeat slowed, and I simply stood there, head still on my arm, listening to the jungle around me, thinking how very happy I was to be alive to listen to it. If my body still craved sleep, I couldn't tell. It was the last thing on my mind now. My dream began to come back to me, in brief, gradually unfolding snatches at first, then faster, fragments all tumbling over each other. It resonated over me with an intensity I knew I couldn't easily dismiss as the product of my anxious, confused day. While I slept, I had called my fears to me, every emotion that was eating me inside; I had breathed them as I slept, struggling to extract purpose from the chaos of thoughts tumbling in my head.

My mother.

I shut my eyes, remembering. I had dreamed of my mother. For the first time in many months since she had passed away. Why? For so very long I had been fast losing hold of my life, going through the motions, needing someone or something to halt my free-fall. Perhaps I had unconsciously summoned her memory for that very reason. In the wilds of the Amazon, in the midst of this great upheaval that would turn my life upside down---for better or worse--- to whom else could I have turned? As well as I had known the vaporous figure was a figment of my sleeping consciousness, it had been an illusory comfort----but a comfort nonetheless. I opened my eyes, blinking past the tears that would not come, heart aching for my loss. As I had known it would. Remembering the reason the cat had approached me, I reluctantly moved to the fire to put it out. Before I could do so my ears again caught the sound of stealthy footfalls and I swore to myself. The cat had returned for me after all. My chest hurt again, my heartbeats coming so loud and fast they echoed in my head, but I knew what I had to do.

I would survive. Whatever it was, I would take it down. I had to. I gripped my knife and made myself ready.

A figure formed itself out of the darkness, moving forward with lithe, predatory grace.

It was Scar. And he was holding my spear.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N**: _In a rush to post this so no comment right now except to say I love these two._

**xxx**

Scar halted just inside the fire's flickering ring of light and looked at me, across to where I crouched like the wild, jungle animal I felt like, still clutching my knife. From behind his back the end of his own spear protruded visibly from where it lay. Staring disbelievingly at it, at him, at my spear, I slowly straightened from the defensive position I had assumed. I couldn't say a word. Intense relief had welled up in my deepest core as soon as I saw him, so powerful it left me light-headed.

Long moments passed as we only stood there, regarding each other. Had any witnessed this scene they would have thought it vastly incongruous, this silent meeting of two beings who were by all rights natural enemies. But we were simply as we had been before. Hunter and human, yes---but bonded to each other against all odds.

When he held one hand out to me, I restrained myself from running to him. Instead I walked to him and placed my hands into his. I was too numb to do anything else. I couldn't even manage to summon the anger I wanted to find towards him for having so abruptly left me alone. His fingers closed over mine, brushing over them, the rough sensation inducing a shiver to run across my skin. A deep purr left his throat as he looked down at me but I avoided his gaze and looked down at the ground, stunned by the depth of emotion he was eliciting from me, unable to meet even the blank visor eyes of his mask. I stared at the spear he still held, around which his fingers tightened slightly as I looked. The last time I had seen it, it had been buried up to its middle in the underside of the snake's pallid belly.

"Lex," Scar said in Ana's soft voice, prompting me to raise my eyes to him. His head was tilted down at me inquisitively.

"I was worried," I whispered by way of explanation.

He rumbled and cuffed me lightly under the chin in what I took to be remonstration. I turned my head away slightly, my eyes running over his mask, noting that it was unscathed from where the snake had struck. My face reflected in its visor, small and blurred, and a touch of emotion emerged finally.

"Why....why didn't you come back?" I asked thickly, even as I knew that no answer would be forthcoming, no explanation for why I had had to endure the trials of the past hours.

Scar continued to look at me for a moment, then dropped my hand and reached up to pull away the two hoses at his mask. I backed away a little and waited for the removal of this barrier between us; waited to see the face, the features that I had once found strange but were now dear to me simply because they were his. As he raised the faceplate away and off, his mandibles flared silently as if stretching themselves. I looked on, it sinking in yet again how much things had changed between us since our first, disastrous meeting. Thus far I had shied away from questioning how deep my feelings for this hunter truly ran. Overwhelmed as I had been by the simple knowledge that my feelings were changing, I had always avoided seeking the answer to this deeper, more troublesome question---and God help me I was still afraid to seek it.

The interfering mask gone, Scar put thumb and finger under my chin and tilted my face up to meet his gaze. I comforted myself that at least whatever I felt for him seemed to be mirrored in the amber eyes examining me so intensely, because he was looking at me as one would a prized possession that had been mislaid and found again. He caressed my mark with rough knuckles, briefly, and slowly ran a finger along the wavering line where hair met skin. He purred again, making no attempt to disguise it for the open expression of fondness that it was. It seemed to be a universal quality of the hunters, I reflected breathlessly, that they were never reluctant about asserting themselves and what they felt, whether it was pride, anger, amusement, condescension or.....affection. Under Scar's touch, with his eyes locked onto mine, I calmed.

Presently he broke his gaze, and turned his head to survey the circle of trees in which we stood, his eyes casting around on the ground, past the fire and into the darkness. I immediately knew what he was looking for.

"They're safe," I assured him, grasping the hand near my cheek and pulling on it to lead him to the hole I had dug. I dropped to my knees and mimicked digging to make sure he understood what I had done, then stood back up again and looked at him expectantly. He glanced at the patch of ground, then at me. Uttering a gravelly trill he patted me roughly on the head and I smiled, for some reason inordinately pleased with myself.

Scar cocked his head at me then and studied me closely.

"What's wrong?" I asked warily, an uneasy sense of deja-vu creeping over me.

He ducked his head slightly, seeming to be deliberating something, which aroused my suspicions even more. Trying not to make it obvious that I was doing so, I glanced around warily for any nearby objects that could be handily used against me.

"Lex," Scar finally said, and pointed with a finger to me. "Scar," he said in my own voice and pointed to himself.

"Yes," I said, nodding uncertainly, not quite sure what to make of this odd piece of conversation.

He growled in what sounded like frustration.

"Scar," he repeated and indicated himself again, this time looking down at me, head again cocked questioningly.

It took me a moment to grasp what he was asking.

_This name that you call me, what does it mean? _

It was my turn to study him now, somewhat amazed. I wondered briefly what had prompted the question---it seeming to come out of nowhere, then I moved closer to him and reached up, pressing my fingers firmly into the warrior's mark on his brow, and letting them linger there.

"Scar," I said, looking into his eyes.

Beneath my touch and gaze, he emitted a low rolling purr and looked pleased.

Strangely, this exchange had relieved some of the unbearable intensity of our reunion. But in the same instant that I had answered Scar, a question had occurred to me as well. I hesitated, wondering if I would be better off not knowing, then pointing to myself and looking up at him in like I asked the question that was suddenly very important to me.....

_What do you call me?_

The seconds ticked away as Scar only looked at me silently, his even gaze never leaving me; so many that I began to fear that he had either not understood or had no way to answer me. I bit my lip disappointedly and began to turn away. I would not ask again. Scar put out a hand to my shoulders and growling turned me back to face him. He stepped away from me, drew his spear from his back, and extended it. He held it in his hands, turning it over, his eyes roving over its cold, slender length. Then the spear stilled in his palms and for a moment he just looked at it. This spear was the one that I had stolen from him in the bowels of the pyramid, before we had formed our unlikely alliance and later, friendship. I had used it to make my first kill and had tried to wield it against him to defend myself. Later he had given it to me of his own free will---for reasons I had not immediately understood.

Scar lifted his eyes from the spear to my face, then looking directly into my eyes brandished it at me-- a quick, menacing movement intended to intimidate----and roared loudly, his mandibles flaring wide. The sound reverberated through the trees, and circled into the air. Before it had completely died away, his head tilted and he looked at me to make sure that I had understood.

I understood.

My name---whatever it was---had something to do with this weapon, and my defiance of him and the certain death that had stalked me below the ice. It was a sign of his respect and regard for me I knew, that he had bestowed such a name on me.

And it was the clearest affirmation that I had made the right choice that I could have asked for.

Deeply moved, I took a step towards him, my eyes not leaving his, then another and another, until I was right before him. He lowered the spear to his side, chittering softly, and his hand reached out again for the mark on my cheek. I reached up to stroke his brow slowly, my thumb and finger caressing his mark in like. His arm reached out and pulled me closer until our bodies were flush against each other. Pressed closely as we were the mingled notes of his scent---musk, warmth, earth, river---filled my senses, making me heady. And after all that had passed, my own scent must be almost indistinguishable from his I realized. I laughed out loud. I couldn't help myself. Scar tilted his head again at me in that curious manner he had, and an immeasurable fondness for him washed over me. I longed to be even closer to him. I craved it. So I did what I had to do. I backed away.

Fighting the last remaining vestiges of shyness I retained when it came to physical intimacy with him, I grasped the hem of my top and pulled it over my head, letting it dangle, then fall from the fingertips of my outstretched hand. Scar had watched me move away from him with a low growl rising in his throat, but trilled softly now. Ignoring his reaction, I moved my hands to my waist, tracing its length to the front where my fingers met my zipper. I slowly pulled down the small tab, and the material of my pants whisked against my skin as it slid down to my feet. The last scraps of my clothing went next, and finally I stood bare in the humid air.

I broke our gaze and turning my back to him, moved closer to the fire and paused, twisting my hair loosely around between my fingers and draping it forward from my neck to leave my back bare to him. I stood there for several moments. Scar had not moved and did not touch me now but I knew that his eyes were still fastened on me. Finally I lowered myself to the ground, slowly stretched my legs out before me, and reclined on my arms--my elbows and palms buried in the young grass beneath me. I ran my gaze over my body, observing the way the fire's red gold light danced across my skin. I watched the muscles on my abdomen and thighs tauten with the slightest of my movement. I traced exploring fingers over my body with a newfound appreciation for it, for what it had been through and done, and everything it was capable of......forcing myself to look at it the way I imagined Scar did.

I let my gaze drift partially up to rest on Scar's partially obscured figure. He had still not moved, and reclined as I was near his feet, he towered over me. I lifted my chin slightly and finally met his gaze again-----my expression as challenging as his when he had finally claimed me as his own.

Of all the words I could have said then, there was only one that could convey everything that I was feeling.

"Scar," I said simply, my voice made husky with anticipation and desire.

He came down to me at once. His face came even with my own, his eyes locked onto mine, his heated gaze never wavering even as his hands ran up my thighs to roughly caress the curve of my waist. When he bent his head down to trail his mandibles against my neck, I brushed my lips against the leathery surface of his temples. He purred and in one swift movement pushed me completely down to the ground and covered my body with his. I squirmed below his weight, and he lifted himself up again slightly, and bracing himself on one arm removed his own clothing with the other. His hair fell forward and their tips trailed along my chest and abdomen; he might as well have laid me in the fire, for the heat that instantly enflamed my skin. I strained upwards, yearning towards him, and parted my legs to clasp around his waist.

Scar paused, then hooking one arm around my waist, slid to sit on the ground and pulled me atop to straddle him. When he reached towards me again it was with a low growl of arousal and need. His hands bore down on my waist as we wrapped into, around each other in the most ancient and natural of ways. His breathing deepened as did mine, and I closed my eyes and lost myself in the surging pleasure.

My body glowed, heated-----and I burned willingly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Note:** Just one more chapter following this. I hope they're read with the understanding that I began scribbling this story about Scar & Lex solely to satisfy my curiosity after Solain's addictive trilogy. In other words I've never envisioned this as an epic, all-encompassing adventure of their lives-- only an imagining of what happened "next".

As of April 18 I'll be on vacation/out of the country and all that good stuff for a month. I won't be checking my email or this site very often so if anyone happens to pm me and I take an ungodly amount of time to respond that's why.

**OceanFire9**---theme songs! Nice.

**Princess Akaichou**---- yup definitely not touching that one!

**AbiiThePrat**---ooh the joy of being hyper

**Dragonfiz**---Too flattered that you chose to start your day by reading my chapter.

**Dragowolf**---Thanks....as for the purpose of the snake heads, I'm writing all that Lex knows.

**Syver'ti**---Four words that made me laugh so friggin' hard :-D

**Elle's Daisy**---As always, your sentiments expressed so graciously. Thank you :-)

**frnight**—Not my favorite thing to read either but it felt right that Lex would have a nightmare.

**AgentX**: Wrong. That this chapter brought a smile to your face brought a smile to mine :-) Re: typos etc., I hate the little buggers but some do slip by. It's also my personal belief that the uploader shreds/crams some words (blame blame).

**xxx**

It's funny how understanding can evolve----when the mind is open to it. Meaning shared in a simple look. A clear message passing in the barest touch of skin against skin. The journey that had brought Scar and I together had been one small step after another; the briefest shifting in position of the things that were. And just like that, on this night, things had shifted between us yet again, another link forged in the chain that seemed to irrevocably bind us.

When pleasure was spent, we sank down, breathing still coming fast but eventually subsiding into their natural rhythms. Crouched in Scar's lap, I roamed hands over his chest, tracing its muscled contours, stroking the pebbled skin that was cool under my touch. Scar was compliant under my examination and let my hands wander where they would, only an occasional soft grumble escaping him. I traced the old wounds along his side, than moved my hands to run along his shoulders and down their blades. When my fingers inexplicably encountered moisture I paused, frowning. Probing further I discovered the tell tale puckered edges of a recent wound that was already beginning to heal. I brought my eyes closer, in the poor light trying to peer past his shoulder at what I had uncovered. Whatever it signified, my fingers encountered another, and another. Different from the older scars that I was already coming to know as well as I did my own, they were deep and nasty--running the gamut of both his shoulder and lower back. Frowning even more I traced the edges of a long gash on his left shoulder that must have been left by his shuriken. The new wounds criss-crossed even this one.

Scar rumbled and I glanced up at him. He was looking at me steadily and his mandibles twitched slightly as he regarded me, but he made no attempt to move my hands away; as I had probed it had occurred to me that these wounds might still hurt. He must have known I was curious about them because he lifted his hand to grasp my own, guiding it to his side just under his arm, inviting me to explore there.

I complied, my fingers roaming his skin, careful not to probe with my fingernail, trying to make sense out of what I was feeling. This wound that he had drawn my attention to was particularly puzzling---a clean, almost neat diagonal incision of flesh. Almost as if it had been made by a blade of some sort. I paused, considering this. A blade---a weapon would only mean another hunter. Whether the human or humanoid variety I could only guess. I immediately pushed away the thought that it could have been the villagers with whom Scar had tangled. They had respected the hunters and their hunt, even revered it; only Torry's intrusion had upset that longstanding balance, and as for Torry I had no doubt that at that moment he still lay incapacitated in the village. I had made sure of that--to my own distress. Instead I mulled a danger to which I had already had the misfortune to be introduced--a rigged trap. Where there was one there had to be another. If what I had gleaned from the warden was correct I was not the only outsider hunting in the Amazon, possibly even in that same area. It was a small miracle in itself that we had not had run into anyone else.

Running thus, my thoughts were a jumble of what ifs and what dids and I glanced at Scar again. His head was cocked, studying me as if to gauge my reaction to this discovery. His face was mostly shadowed in the darkness, but I could almost imagine he was looking at me with the same pleased expression he had had when battling the anaconda.

"You really love to hunt huh," I remarked pointlessly. Pointless of course because I was stating the obvious. Scar grunted as if to concur. Although I had long known that hunting was the predators' way of life I was unable to identify with their need, their driving hunger to stalk and slay, to lay life on the line for the chance to make the kill, and to find reward in that enough to crave it again and again. This love of the hunt for its own sake ran counter to the most basic of instincts, the instinct to survive. It ran counter to my own. Yet I was not completely immune to it-- it had touched me too. Standing over the carcasses of my alien kills, I had known the triumph of surviving, of overcoming a foe that was formidable in its fighting array---fighting with teeth, tail, claw and blood. I shook myself a little. I was not even sure that Scar _had_ been hunting---he had returned with no new trophies that I could see. As much as I preferred to believe that Scar had been involuntarily kept from returning to me sooner, I had to face facts. Scar was a hunter. Hunting was his life, his truest nature. And we were standing in one of the most fertile hunting grounds on earth.

I looked at Scar, thinking, wondering, imagining until my head almost hurt from it. I had to shake my head finally. "I really wish I knew what happened to you," I told him in a low voice. He cocked his head, seeming to ponder what I had said, then reached out to brush my cheek.

I sighed. "Well, whatever it was, at least it looks like you won," I muttered, shrugging in defeat, realizing once again that there would always be this gulf of matters necessarily unspoken between us. My guesses were as likely an explanation that I would ever be able to get, and I could gain nothing by continuing to worry about it. The wounds evidently no longer hurt, or at the least he did not seem concerned about or limited by them.

Putting this troublesome issue aside I turned my attention to a more pleasant task---exploring Scar's face. The fire doing only so much to throw light on our obscured bodies, I could see little but my fingers told the story for me. Scar chittered softly as my fingers tentatively moved over his face. I had supposed the hunters' mandibles the most fragile parts of their bodies, but I was surprised now, touching Scar's, to find that they were stronger than they looked, offering a small resistance when I gently tried to manipulate one in an experimental manner. Curious, I traced their length, one by one, to the very point of the small tusks that tipped each. A small squeal left me involuntarily when they clamped down suddenly to seize my finger. Scar released it almost immediately and trilled in laughter.

"_Idiot_," I chided.

Growing uncomfortable in my crouched position, weariness beginning to set in again, I slid off Scar and to the ground. He rumbled his displeasure and his hand shot out and pulled me to him. He bent his head, chin resting atop my head. Huddled against his side, his arm locked over my chest holding me firmly to him, I felt a pulsating in my blood, the silent thrumming of an inner serenity that hadn't been there before. How incongruous that though old doubts and fears remained with me still---I was content.

I was roused, yet again, by Scar tugging on a lock of my hair.

"I'm awake," I groaned in protest, repressing a yawn. He rumbled and setting me away from himself got up and bent to pick up his clothing and mask. I hugged my knees to my chest, watching as he replaced them. He moved back to the buried heads and begun to dig, uncovering them in great handfuls of dirt. He pulled them out and dusted them off, turning them around and examining them while he did so. Understanding that he did not intend for us to linger where we were much longer, I got to my feet and one by one gathered up the clothes I had myself shed, and dressed. I retrieved my pack and walked over to Scar, sling in hand.

He hefted one of the heads, presumably that of the anaconda he had killed although I couldn't tell the heads apart, onto his shoulder and held the other out to me, impossibly balanced in his palm. I paused to kick dirt over the fire to extinguish it, and took the head from him, grumbling my discontentment at receiving it again. He chittered softly and bent to pick up something at his feet, holding it out to me; my spear. I reached out for it but his fingers didn't immediately release their hold. I tugged on it pointedly, biting back a smile, and he let it go with a rumble of laughter. Still rumbling he nudged my shoulder to push me ahead of him in the direction in which we were to go.

We walked in a comfortable silence. So much had occurred since we had been separated, but we had already communicated everything that needed to be told for now.

After some time we moved under tree cover so thick no moonlight pierced through at all. Tendrils of dull pain were shooting around my neck, shoulders, darting down to my lower back as my body protested its discomfort at being burdened for so long. I could see almost nothing before me, and just as little of Scar. The time seemed to drag on, endlessly, and I wondered where we were going. Now that we had each made a kill, was the hunt finally, blessedly over? Or would it go on, until every last anaconda had been killed? When I thought of the latter possibility, I couldn't help but despair.

I was plodding along behind Scar feeling like the lowliest of pack animals when without warning he brought me to a stop in his usual way; halting abruptly in front of me and seizing my arm before I could stumble past.

He stood quietly, gripping my arm, apparently listening to something. Whatever it was, he seemed to have made it out because only moments later he released my arm and stood there waiting. I could still hear nothing, but pressed my lips closed past the question I wanted to ask, knowing that if we were about to face danger of some kind silence was imperative. Scar had not made a move to reach for a weapon---his spear remained on his back so he was apparently not concerned by what he had heard, but I remained wary, tightening my fingers around mine, ready to spring it from its compact state if necessary.

After a few moments of strained listening, I heard the unmistakable growls of hunters coming closer to us. I relaxed my grip on my spear only slightly, and awaited their approach with trepidation. None of the hunters had offered to do me real harm when I entered their camp, but that had been two days before, and it was quite a tricky matter to find out if this precedent still held when I could barely see two feet in front of me. A measured silence, then another growl, louder this time and so close to me that I jumped. They had silently come right up to us. Judging by the growl's low timbre I guessed that it was a male hunter. The female who must have been with him remained silent and both seemed to be ignoring me completely. I immediately wondered if it was the unfriendly predator I had dubbed Ivy, and her mate who had crossed our paths but it would have been a very wild guess; I could have probably expected such an reception from any of the other hunters. At this point, it was enough for me that these new arrivals were not manifesting a desire to attack me but I was not going to be so foolish as to completely let down my guard.

I stood there waiting anxiously as the three hunters spent some time in growling conversation; they would have much to talk about. We were coming to the third day of the hunt and they were the only other hunters we had seen in this time. I wondered what their own experiences had been on this hunt and I could only pray fervently that we were not about to embark on a new one. Presently Scar tugged on my hand to let me know that we were about to move again. The hunters seemed to have chosen the same route we were taking, because they followed behind; Scar led the way, myself behind, and the two new members of our party brought up the rear. If entering the predators' camp had been unsettling, walking in pitch black darkness with two unfamiliar predators at my back was downright frightening.

The adrenaline to which fear so often gives birth is a wondrous thing. My feet found new wings, propelling me forward with an ease that had been previously sorely lacking, so keen was I now to avoid being walked into and attracting the displeasure of the two hunters who followed behind me. Had they been Scar, Scale or even Tank I could have expected a rap atop the head or a displeased snarl. How these newcomers would choose to express their ire, I did not wish to know. Also had it still been just Scar and I, perhaps I would have been tempted to try to wheedle another halt, but rigid fear kept my feet moving. I could be grateful at least that the hunters were as blind in the dark as I was; I would never have been able to keep out of their way otherwise. When I could no longer bear the head's bouncing against my back and the awkward, thumping sound it was producing, I clasped my arms behind me and hugged it tighter to my body. The hollow sensation of hunger gnawed in my stomach, and a few times sounded its distress. At one such sound, a low snort came from behind me and I flushed in embarrassment.

We walked throughout the night in near silence, monotony broken only occasionally when one or the other of the hunters called a stop, to confer about direction perhaps, or to listen to the sounds of some animal prowling nearby. These were welcome opportunities for me to stretch my back and neck as quickly and as best as I could, or adjust the sling that strained at my back and shoulders, and perhaps they were probably the only reason why I did not just collapse in my tracks that night.

**xxx**

It was daybreak when I noticed that imperceptibly the way was become easier, and that the trees were thinning. Hope surged. We were leaving the deepest part of the jungle behind. I did not dare let myself hope for what, despite my apprehension of what it would bring, I truly wanted--the end to this hunt and perpetual, tiring march. Then unexpectedly, we strode past a line of trees---and onto open ground. We were greeted by familiar growls, and I recognized the clearing from which we had started our long trek. It was unexpected but true. Scar and I had been walking for two days, but returned to the spot from which we had begun in less than half that time. We must have been moving in a semi-circle or had doubled back on our tracks at some point. I could have sobbed with joy, but my relief fled as we moved further into the camp. I slowed, my steps cautious now as I tried to take in---to comprehend---what I was seeing. The two predators who had walked behind me all night moved past me and into the clearing but I had forgotten them entirely.

The camp I remembered was gone. The metal bin of weapons that had taken centerplace was pushed aside, and half emptied of its contents**. **A large skull, longer than it was wide, perched innocuously on a tall stake in the middle of the clearing as if it had always been there. Two slender bone-white fangs curved wickedly from open, hinged jaws. An anaconda's skull. Several shorter stakes stood in a row before it, some already grisly adorned with anaconda heads, flesh and skin still attached; apparently trophies of the hunters who had returned before us.

Scar moved to one of the stakes and staked the head he carried onto it. Knowing that the same was expected of me, I followed and maneuvered mine from my back with some effort. Summoning up all the strength I could call to my weary arms, I positioned the head as high as I could over the stake next to his and plunged it down. The skin tore audibly as the stake's sharp point pierced the head just below the jaw, and I heard the soft squish of pliant flesh inside parting to admit entry. Only when the stake encountered bone, or something as solid it could not pierce, when I was sure it would not fall off and shame me before the eyes I knew were observing me-----did I release it and back away, trying to conceal my repugnance.

Feeling that I had done everything required of me I made a beeline for the nearest tree, sinking down to rest my head against its trunk, exhausted past description. Marked as a hunter or not, my body was still human. I wanted to never move again but after a few moments forced my body to lift slightly off the tree, groaning, to remove my pack. I dug out my canteen, and raised it to my lips to drink thirstily, making a face at its slight iodine taste. Finished, I slumped against the tree again and turned my head to one side, looking at the camp from under half-closed lids. For the first time I noticed that it seemed different for another reason besides the display of heads.

The camp was almost empty. Most of the hunters who had started the hunt with us were nowhere in sight. The ones who were milled together in a loose group near the heads. I counted them silently. Other than Scar and myself, there were now only six other hunters---and Scar and his mate were not among these I noted with a touch of concern.

Scar approached my tree after having greeted some of his companions. He stood there, looking down at me collapsed on the ground. I sat up, not wanting to appear weak before him, then closed my eyes briefly in consternation as I realized how battered my body really was. The effort had just about sapped whatever little strength I had, and I sagged back. When I opened my eyes and glanced at Scar again he was still looking at me. He dropped to a crouch in front of me and placed his hand on my shoulder. He thumped his chest with a closed fist.

_Good job_.

I nodded tiredly in acknowledgment and placed my hand on his shoulder in turn. I thumped my chest.

_You too._

He trilled in amusement then with a grumble moved over to sit next to me, pulled out a stone and began to sharpen his knife on it. Since he must have no need of the knife at that moment, I realized that it was only a way to kill time, and I wondered what we were awaiting. I closed my eyes, then a series of loud growls, distinguishable from the hunters' growling conversation made me open them again. It was Scale and Amazon being greeted as they walked into camp, each bearing a head on broad shoulders. Moving to the row of heads they staked their own as Scar and I had done. What seemed like only moments later a sound like the distant report of a gunshot echoed overhead. A brief lull fell over the camp at once. A few of the predators glanced up and I followed their lead. A faint shimmer in the air.....

Dread washed over me.

I knew what that shimmer foretold. A predator ship---and more hunters. Friendly, hostile; for what reason they were coming, here, now, I did not know.

Scar had put away his knife and risen to his feet when the sound rang out and unwillingly I rose to mine as well and followed him into the midst of the hunters who now pressed tightly together near the row of heads. Judging from the few, quiet growls that were being exchanged, I was not the only anxious one, but this gave me no sense of relief. If anything I was now even warier than I had been before. Anything, or _anyone_, that intimidated the predators could only scare the shit out of me, and I shifted from foot to foot, aware that I was betraying my nervousness but unable to help it.

A silence fell over the clearing as we stood waiting; a silence that was watchful, expectant---and perhaps not a little reverent.

Footsteps reverberated suddenly on the ground, sooner than I had expected, moving towards us; heavy because there was no need for the usual stealth of the hunt. Then, the dull clank of heavy, interlocked armor rising and falling with movement.

They were here.

_**Note**: No.... I'm not going to delve into what happened to Scar while they were separated. Due to the language barrier, there are just some questions to which Lex will never get a complete answer._


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **_I never planned to leave this one chapter hanging, didn't think to mention that, sorry! My thanks to everyone who followed this story or gave me feedback about it in one form or another._

**xxx**

Whether by accident or design, facing the staked heads as the predators and I were, we were positioned directly across from the small gap in the trees that was the clearing's entrance. So when the arriving hunters strode in my anxious eyes locked on them at once.

They were four, all masked, all ornately armored, heavy cloaks swirling in their wake. Their hair draped to their shoulders, in the case of one nearly to his waist, in different shades of gray and white. Immediately I knew them to be elders. Their footsteps on the dry dirt echoed heavily like the doom I felt curled in the pit of my stomach but unsuprisingly they moved with the predators' characteristic ease. Sensing the magnitude of what was to occur, knowing that I would soon be submitted to examination, I forced myself to feign a calm I did not feel.

They walked towards us. Each cocked a head down at the heads as he passed, but a single, cursory look was apparently enough to satisfy and each glanced away unconcernedly thereafter. They came to a standstill in a row, facing us. If any eyes behind those unreadable masks scrutinized me more closely than any of the other hunters with whom I stood, it was impossible to tell. I studied them anxiously----their proudly held bodies, covered partially in intricately worked metal armor of varied hues and design. My eyes were arrested by a trophy fastened ostentatiously to the waist of one, a large hunter whose hair was almost pure white. Itself bleached white with age, the skull was larger than any of the small skulls Scar wore draped across his chest, and with its rounded cranium and short, blunt teeth, it was distinctly primate.

An instant later I recognized the species of the unfortunate animal that had forfeited its life and I blanched, the blood draining from my face. I took a shaky breath then expelled it slowly. So, this elder at least was no stranger to humans....

I forced myself not to ponder its possible implications---now, more than ever, I couldn't afford to let myself be distracted from what was going on.

Without anyone having yet uttered a sound, one of the elders, this one whose hair was only a light shade of gray, approached the bare anaconda skull and reaching into the mouth broke off a fang as easily as I had seen Scar break off an alien's finger. He turned back to his brethren and began a quiet growling conversation with the elder with the snow white hair; the other two elders stood nearby amid an air of separateness, taking no part in this discussion. Presently, the elder who had broken off the fang growled something quietly, and two hunters moved forward from the group in which I stood to stand before him.

The elder approached them, fang clenched precisely between the tips of two clawed fingers. The male hunter removed his mask and bowed his head before him, and I watched with dawning comprehension as the elder dug the fang into and down the center of his brow. Turning to the hunter's mate, the elder repeated the action. When the hunters turned to rejoin our group, I saw that a single bloody green gash curved along the lower of the two slashes that formed the warrior's mark.

A new mark.......unmistakably of great significance to the hunters. Identifying those of their number who were mated?

The elder bent to wipe the fang casually in the grass at his feet and stood up. Again a quiet conversation between him and the elder with the skull fastened at his waist; and again a growl that prompted two more hunters to present themselves to be marked.

I looked on, my heart pounding, awaiting the moment I dreaded---the moment when I would have to step forward as well. Always the two elders conferred between themselves before each marking, and surely they would have something else to discuss when it was my turn----

A sudden, tense silence, then a barking growl snapped me to attention, and before I realized it Scar had taken my hand and was pulling me forward, my feet following in surprising obedience; I did not even stumble athough inside I had gone rigid with a host of emotions, over all of which fear and nervousness ruled. A few soft growls of interest followed us and I realized that I was not the only one wondering what the outcome of all this would be. The other predators who had taken part in the hunt and were now standing behind us likewise waiting to be marked, were curious too.

I stood beside Scar, fighting my desire to edge even closer to him---even behind him. He growled, a low sound meant for my ears only, which held an undertone of reassurance that I hoped I wasn't imagining. My heart beating furiously, I clenched my fists and held my arms straight against my side, trying to steel myself for whatever happened next----and also trying not to heave my guts out. I had the sinking feeling this was not going to end well.

The elder who was to mark us came closer. I shifted, preparing myself to have my scars displayed, but he ignored me. His attention was solely on Scar. He uttered guttural sounds, what sounded like questions, that were punctuated by Scar's growling responses. He still did not look at me but I knew my presence wasn't forgotten, and there was no doubt in my mind that I was the focus of his inquiry. Finally, his head turned to me—very briefly---then he whirled around to the other elder behind him. They began a quiet discussion between themselves. I watched anxiously, wishing desperately that I could understand what they were saying. My warrior status wasn't being questioned, I knew this instinctively. Something else was troubling them and of course I could easily guess what that something was.....

Things didn't look good.

They didn't look any better when the white-haired elder who so proudly exhibited his fondness for human trophies suddenly turned his head away from their conversation to look in our direction, then began to walk over to us.

_Shit!_ I thought in horrified dismay. _What now?_ The skull fastened to his hip wobbled slightly with each step that he took and it was only with great difficulty that I was able to tear my eyes away from it, and to him.

A few strides and he was standing right in front of me, head cocked inquisitively. His head moved slowly from side to side as he looked at Scar, then down to me. He growled something, and I was startled when he reached up to release the pressurized hoses at his mask. He was going to take it off. My heart thumped frantically; did this mean anything? Was he about to test me? Did he think the removal of his mask all the better to terrify me with?

The elder removed the mask with both hands, then turned his attention to me. His eyes were a deep yellow, almost golden, and seemed to take me in completely. For one surreal moment I was reminded of the big cat that had thought to make me its next meal, but after searching the elder's face as he was doing mine, I was thankful that I did not read aggression or disdain there. He was not even looking at me challengingly. He just seemed very thoughtful and contemplative. He growled something over his shoulder, and the other elder came forward to stand next to him. Yet another quiet discussion, both looking at me now and then. Finally, the elder who had taken off his mask to have a better look, turned to me and growled something: a low, long growl that rumbled on and on---sending my eyebrows darting up at its length---then eventually rose in tone at the end into what sounded like a question.

I stared at him dumbfounded. Did---did he really expect me to _answer_ him?

Apparently he did because he cocked his head and continued to look at me. I didn't know what to do or say. He didn't look or sound angry. Just very serious and grave, but this gave me no relief. I had no idea what was going on, no idea what to do. I felt sick. If ever there was such a thing as the moment of truth, I knew that this---this ceremony---this inquisition, whatever it was---- was it. Without a doubt it whatever future lay with Scar was implicitly bound up in it. It was unfair--how could it be otherwise when I couldn't understand a word of the hunters' language? What _was_ the elder asking me that was so damned important I wondered helplessly. Scar was a hunter---I was not. They did not want to mark me as his mate---that much was obvious. _What _could I possibly say that would change that?

A thought flashed suddenly in my mind, lightning-swift. Was this a test? It very well could be. But a test of _what_?

The white-haired elder who had questioned me, continued to look down at me for a few moments, but now shook his head and turned to walk away. The other elder followed. I watched their retreating backs helplessly, shaken to my very core.

Whatever they had asked, if this was truly a test of some sort—I had failed.

_Scar. My friend. _I would be forced to watch as he left with his people---likely never to see him again. I wanted to be with him. Despite everything, and because of everything else, I wanted to be with him. I knew that now. I had long known it. Now, after this hunt, I knew how much I would go through to make it possible. As willingly as I had followed him through the hellish pyramid and caverns of Bouvetoya I would follow —and not regret it. And with each step count not what I had lost but what I was gaining.

_Is this truly what you want?_ a tiny, hated, doubting voice whispered in my head.

"Yes," I whispered in agony. "_Yes_!"

Both of the elders whirled around at once, startling me; I had forgotten what good hearing the hunters had. The white-haired elder came back to stand in front of me and leaned down to peer closely into my face. His head tilted, slowly, and his mandibles moved slightly. I stared at him with trepidation--- and then utter confusion when I realized that he didn't seem displeased that I had spoken after he had already begun to walk away, which was what I'd immediately thought when he had turned around so sharply. If anything he looked.....astonished. His mandibles twitched almost spasmodically and his head was cocked at an angle that looked rather uncomfortable. I looked past him to the gray-haired elder who was also looking at me with the same peculiar expression.

Behind me, a few soft growls of surprise arose from the hunters behind us. Scar shifted slightly next to me but did not make a sound.

To my own astonishment I realized that somehow, in some way---I had contrived to say the right thing. What had that been? I wondered desperately. I had only said---

_Yes_

Pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. The elders were asking me whether I wanted this marking---whether I accepted Scar. I marveled that they had thought me able to answer the question--simple to them but unfathomable to me--and wondered even if that had been the test itself....

The elders looked me still, as if waiting for me to continue.

Suddenly I remembered my enthusiastic activities with Scar not too many hours past and I colored hotly, imagining for one mortified moment that they could read all in my face and body. It was obvious of course that they already _knew _that Scar and I shared a relationship that extended beyond our hunting together. My mere presence on this hunt was unmistakable evidence of that. I'd met and interacted with Scar's companions, thinking little of it, too occupied with preserving my own skin and grateful only that they for the most part had not evinced hostility towards me. It was however a different---and frankly _embarassing_-- matter to say the words aloud. I had only before breathed them to myself. Scar and I were of two different worlds in every sense of the word. I knew without question that our relationship would be viewed as unnatural, untenable in the eyes of other humans---and worse. I suspected that the hunters did not feel much differently about it; and now I was being asked to _claim _my affection before these grave, intensely scrutinizing elders?

And the other hunters as well I winced, hearing a grunt from behind us. _No, couldn't forget about them_....

I was being a coward again---and I hated myself for it. Terrified that fear and my damnable pride would snatch my right to happiness away, I found my tongue again to say what made me squirm inwardly with self-conscious embarrassment.

"I want---I want to stay with him," I said falteringly, flushing my discomfort, wondering if they even understood what I was saying, wondering what my admission meant to them.

Both elders stood for a while looking at me. The conversation that followed between them strained my nerves to the utmost. When the white-haired elder finally turned away, growling, I nearly choked on my disappointment and despair.

All this. For _nothing_. I had lost everything after all....

My spirits plummeted---

---then rose when the other elder stepped forward, fang upraised to mark us. To mark me.

Scar was marked first. When the elder turned to me, I raised my head, turned my cheek, keeping my eyes on the sharp, white object hovering in such close vicinity to it. I did not think he would harm me, but if he had wanted to this would have been a cruelly efficient way of doing it. The fang's tip sinking into my skin brought no pain—until it buried deeper, widening the flesh around it. The elder was taking no trouble to be gentle, and when he dragged it down my cheek, the burning set in---slow and dull. So different from the intense stinging of the first mark that Scar had given me. I touched two fingers gingerly to my cheek, feeling out the mark. When I pulled them away, I stared at my fingertips, at the two bloods mingled there, crimson and green.

Scar tugged on my hand and I turned to follow him back into the hunters. I had not looked at him since we presented ourselves to be marked, but I glanced up now. He turned his head slightly down at me and my eyes locked with his amber gaze. My lips raised in a slight smile and he rumbled softly.

One of the other elders who up until this point had only stood by silently, broke off the other fang, and I watched as pair by pair, more hunters were marked---all after a conferral of some sort, and some more promptly than others.

My face was schooled into an expression of impassiveness but inside I was soaring, high on the pride and relief that flowed sweetly through my veins. Everything that I had been through on this hunt, everything, had culminated in this moment---in this acceptance. I had submitted to my first marking partly out of a sense of survival, wishing only to appease the hunter that for some reason was allowing me to accompany him through the pyramid; my only desire not to be left behind—to survive. I had been ambivalent about that marking, not giving it much thought until later to its consequences for myself and Scar.

This mark that ached on my cheek was different. I had sought it, wanted it. As for its own significance surely I would discover that with time.

When the last marked hunters had rejoined the group, another brief silence fell, then the elders growled loudly in unison, raised their fists and thumped their chests briefly. The hunt, or at least their part in it seemed to be over, because they wheeled around and strode away, back the way they had come, out of the camp. With their departure whatever tension and formality was left in the air eased noticeably, the hunters relaxing with a mixture of loud growls and rumbles, not unlike a classroom whose teacher has just departed, and I couldn't help wondering if like Scar and Scale, these hunters were young.

The hunters all turned their attention now to retrieving the heads, resulting in a chorus of slick sounds as each stake surrendered its grisly adornment. Scar pulled one off, then another, handing the second one to me which I supposed was mine although I wouldn't have been able to distinguish it from any of the others. Scar pointed to my pack, and I handed it over. He opened it and took out my knife. He crouched to the ground and I watched with mild aversion over his shoulder as he used its tip to scoop out the eyes. Handing the knife back to me, he pulled his own larger knife from calf and began to skillfully strip it of skin, flesh and veins.

Around us, the other hunters were intently doing the same. I grimaced, but took up my own head and squatted a few feet away on the ground. Wrinkling my nose to try to block out the emanating scent of meat going bad, I began to strip it as Scar was doing, sneaking quick glances at him from time to time to copy him. I had deliberately left the eyes for last. When I could put it off no longer, I placed the knife's tip against the glazed over orb but had to take a deep breath before I could bring myself to plunge it in. To my relief, the eye popped out whole, almost dried. I pried out the second, grimacing all the while.

A report of a sound like a gunshot overhead---I paused but didn't look up. The elders were leaving, to where I could only guess. Scar finished his own cleaning and came over to see what I was doing. He rewarded my efforts with a snarl of approval, and I smiled bemusedly.

With the tip of my knife, I began to carefully pry out the snake's large fangs one by one. If I could manage the subterfuge, I would take just those and leave the head behind. I was absolutely sick to death of it.

Scar bent to pick up one of the fangs and looked at it, then held his palm out to me. Understanding what he wanted, I slipped my necklace off and gave it to him. He untied the ends and restrung it, adding the anaconda's fang. As it was, the fang dwarfed everything on the necklace and when I put it back on, it hung low below my collarbone where it usually fell.

The camp was breaking up---the hunt was indeed over, and the hunters were leaving for places unknown. But to my amazement there was no general exodus---or indeed any attempt to return to anything resembling a group formation. Everyone just seemed to be wandering away. Going their separate ways---but in pairs. Male and female. I watched, wondering what it could all mean.

Scale and Amazon passed us on their way to the clearing's edge, and stopped briefly, to bid us goodbye it seemed. Scale growled to Scar, and the two clasped each other firmly on the shoulders. Scale inclined his head to me, and brushed the mark on my cheek, while Scar said goodbye to Amazon in the same way. Then Scale stepped back and I was faced with his mate once again. She was still unmasked from our marking, and her eyes pierced into me as intently as I remembered. She nodded at me, then reaching forward suddenly, seized the fang dangling on my necklace, and turned it delicately between her clawed fingers, examining it closely. I expected her to turn away then, but her eyes fell on something. She gracefully raised a finger--- and prodded my neck. My hand reached up automatically to cover what must undoubtedly have been a new bruise courtesy of Scar, and I flushed. She tilted her head down again, her fierce yellow eyes regarding me, then brought her finger up, and probed a spot on her own neck. My jaw dropped. She had already turned away but I doubted she would have understood my reaction anyway.

I watched Scale and Amazon walk away, disappearing somewhere into the trees. I reflected about the few hunters that I had met who had accepted me. As violent and ruthless as they could otherwise be, my relationship with them were for the most part easygoing after they had accepted me. Was it possible that I would not be so lonely in my new life after all? I thought then about one of my last climbs, on the coast of Greenland, before Bouvetoya--- before my life had so incredibly changed. On one of those hauntingly beautiful mornings that dawn only miles from nowhere, I'd spotted a family of Arctic wolves some great distance away, running across the ice to their den after a hunt. I'd watched through my binoculars fascinated, as the female lifted her muzzle still scarlet with blood from a kill, to nudge the pudgy cubs that tumbled to meet her.

Loyal to those she claimed as her own, but lethal to others. That could also sum up the hunters alright.

I also thought of that frightening, nightmarish night when I had first met Scar---what we'd been through together since, and what had grown between us. I didn't kid myself that we still faced obstacles, but the fact remained that being with him was......right.

A breeze stirred, unexpectedly cooler against my cheek than the occasional warm wind that occasionally wandered through the jungle and I looked up. The sky was overcast, and showing every sign of approaching rain. Just my luck of course that the weather was taking a turn for the cooler now that the hunt was over. As the thought passed through my mind, a tiny raindrop fell on my eyelash making me blink. Another drop plopped to the ground, then another, coming faster, each tiny spot a widening oval in the dirt. Scar had moved to the bin and was rummaging through it for the weapons we had left behind. I watched as he pulled out my gun and his cannon.

So much had changed since I first set foot in this clearing. And yet so little had. I still wanted to be with this hunter that had won me over. What had changed was----me. What did the uncertainties matter when I had Scar at my side? Fate in all her screwy wisdom had sent me this unlikely friend and companion, and looking at him I knew that I would never let myself be separated from him.

I walked over to tell him this.

"Scar," I said aloud when I stood beside him. A light drizzle was falling now, clouding everything in a soft haze.

Scar lowered the cannon he held, half-turning and held my gun out to me with a soft rumble. I took it and turned it over in my hands, marveling at how comforting it felt to hold it once more. Scar cocked his head down at me, the ends of his hair trailing over his shoulders and across my cheek. Playfully, I cocked my head at the same angle he had. He lifted his hand and rapped me on my head lightly with his knuckles and uttered his familiar trill of amusement. I moved closer to him and bent my head to his chest, the beginnings of a smile on my face, at peace.

xxx

End


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